I own a DSLR that I keep on autofocus because I have no idea how to operate it (Manual? What manual?). Or I hand it to Jason to take the pictures. The use of the word Photoshop and the slightest inkling that I would have to operate it makes my head feel like I'm developing an aneurysm.
She creates original mouth-watering recipes and has compiled them all into a best-selling cookbook that you can practically read cover-to-cover.
I catch pans on fire. And burn frozen pizzas. And submerge my hands into boiling marshmallows without thinking first.
She homeschools her 4 beautiful children after getting up before the sun rises to document the sweat and hard work that goes into raising cows and horses on her family's huge expanse of acreage.
I work full-time and come home to a small rent house in a slightly, um, urbanish area. After I pick the children up from school/daycare. It's a good day if I refrain from yelling at the kids in the morning when it's really my fault we're late because I woke up too late.
Her blog posts gets trillions of hits per day (each with terribly witty comments), even if she isn't giving away one of her amazing prizes like a $500 gift card or a fully stocked kitchen. When she hosts an unbelieveable giveaway, she gets zillions of hits.
No one is knocking on my virtual door begging to give away prize packages on my blog because my blog is completely unknown on the interwebs. Do I even exist? Is there such a thing as a blog? (I'm feeling existential.)
She's a thin redheaded former ballerina.
I'm a brunette with a slight "winter" build (in preparation for hibernation) who stomped around on her high school's dance team performing military and pom routines without any formal training.
I'm pretty sure The Pioneer Woman and I couldn't be more dissimilar, but that may be why I love her blog more'n my luggage. Her recipes are accessible (even to me!) and her photography is inspiring. Her writing is random and hilarious.
I'm thrilled to be making the trip down to Austin tonight to meet her and have her sign my copy of her new cookbook. My friend Mandi and I may have to wait in line for hours, but it will be
And then I may sleep with her cookbook under my pillow in hopes that some of her fabulousness rubs off on me!