I have a confession to make

My name is Susan, and I am addicted to the Pioneer Woman.

When that will change to "recovering addict" is not on the foreseeable horizon.

I don't know how I missed her for all these years. Surely if you had known about her, you would have told me, right?

My discovery of her happened because my boys play tennis on Saturday morning. It's not a direct correlation, but I often use that time to watch a little uninterrupted Food Network. And it turns out she started her show on one of those Saturday mornings that I tuned in. And I was hooked.

Since then, I have periodically checked her blog - thepioneerwoman.com - and tried a few recipes but I would classify my obsession as mild.

Until now.

A week or two ago, I stumbled on a story on the sidebar of her blog that honestly could have caused me to wet my pants had I had a semi-full bladder. I read it and re-read it and every time, I laughed out loud. You can check it out - go back a few posts on my blog and you'll see a very short post. But this post spoke to me because a) I LOVE anybody with a self-deprecating sense of humor and b) I could see this whole scene play out in my head and could imagine the horror of it all.

Who was this woman?

Since then, I've become addicted. Seriously addicted. As in, could we plan a summer vacation to Oklahoma and find her ranch and just show up on her doorstep? I think she'd invite me for an iced coffee and I could help her cook dinner for the Marlboro Man, aka her husband, and all her kids.

Since then, I downloaded her book and read it in what seemed like minutes. And I laughed out loud at parts of it. I've also subscribed to get all her blog posts as they come out. I have only subscribed to two other blogs and those are of dear friends with new babies and I need/must see the developments of those sweet babies as soon as they are made. The Pioneer Woman competes with babies. She might be winning in the popularity contest.

Just kidding. I love those babies and will always be more interested in them than her.

I think.

Anyhoo, I cannot get enough of this woman. I'm off to make some of her fried rice for dinner tonight. I do, after all, have to feed my own Marlboro Man....