13 May 2014, 1:04pm
General
3 comments

Blogging is a form of muttering to yourself in a stage whisper with the oaths excised

Today my cooking mojo is comically MIA. Tried to make oatmeal and kept turning down the heat and it still burned. Apparently I was turning down the timer. Ah. Start again.

Take two was the lumpiest oatmeal in creation. I have heard of lumpy oatmeal but never seen it.

What’s the cause? Shall we make up some spurious causality like Divorce rate in Maine which correlate with Per capita consumption of margarine (US). What would lumpy oatmeal in Ontario correlate with? Rate of poem translations from Finish to Romanian?

And how can you do brownie wrong? So many ways as evidenced everywhere but I tried anyway except I forgot I was toasting the hazelnuts.

Maybe what I got going on is a smoke mojo.

Start again. Realized why the recipe seemed off. The base recipe was raw vegan (so that’s why the cooking time was 2 hours. Because low heat doesn’t count as heat. Not exactly my lived experience.)

Added nuts, coriander, cinnamon, chipotle, dried coconut and upped the cocoa by half to cut the prevailing taste of dates. Mixed with a recipe using baking powder and taking 20 minutes. It may not work at all. But at least there’s the holy bean’s aromotherapy of the room.

Yesterday I was good for nothing but I anticipated that. Going out to see family takes a couple days out of me. Even this time when everyone was in light spirits. It was easy. But then there’s the highspeed exposure therapy of driving so much.

If I see a mental wall, if I don’t address it, it thickens. Better to break it when it’s all iridescent thin. It is tiring but better than waiting until I need a axe and sweat to get thru.

Last night was a quiet evening in the 70s, watching The Dating Game with John Ritter. How natural an extension of himself his physical comedy was. How strange the year. What a difference from the Bachelor or BacheloToday my cooking mojo is comically MIA. Tried to make oatmeal and kept turning down the heat and it still burned. Apparently I was turning down the timer. Ah. Start again.

Take two was the lumpiest oatmeal in creation. I have heard of lumpy oatmeal but never seen it.

How can you do brownie wrong? So many ways as evidenced everywhere but I tried anyway except I forgot I was toasting the hazelnuts.

Maybe what I got going on is a smoke mojo.

Start again. Realized why the recipe seemed off. The base recipe was raw vegan (so that’s why the cooking time was 2 hours. Because low heat doesn’t count as heat. Not exactly my lived experience.)

Added nuts, coriander, cinnamon, chipotle, dried coconut and upped the cocoa by half to cut the prevailing taste of dates. Mixed with a recipe using baking powder and taking 20 minutes. It may not work at all. But at least there’s the holy bean’s aromotherapy of the room.

Yesterday I was good for nothing but I anticipated that. Going out to see family takes a couple days out of me. Even this time when everyone was in light spirits. It was easy. But then there’s the highspeed exposure therapy of driving so much. More Kanga in the Pantheon than Eoyore or Tigger.

If I see a mental wall, if I don’t address it, it thickens. Better to break it when it’s all iridescent thin. It is tiring but better than waiting until I need a axe and sweat to get thru.

Last night was a quiet evening in the 70s, watching The Dating Game with John Ritter. How natural an extension of himself his physical comedy was. How strange the year. What a difference from the Bachelor or Bachelorette. For all its hyper-sexualness it seems more innocent in the silly crass way.

There was also a nice reunion of Three’s Company of Suzanne and Joyce meeting after 30 years. There’s 3 parts. It seems less bullshittery than most presented communications.

My energies are perking but it’s just as well I’m up and about, with wood delivery for fence-building, and food delivery and a mason to give an estimate. Good mason methinks. He has a careful way of gazing at the world and looking more than he speaks. He cares for materials the way a kind shepherd might see more than sheep. Empathy like a certain book restorer shows towards a book.

He seems to know the history of it. Fellow on the level. There’s something trustworthy about dirt on the hand and tear in the sleeve.

Flying Banzini’s blog made a good point: “We say to friend A, “Gosh, friend B is really smart” but for some reason we don’t tell B this to his/her face. Weird.”

The good fight fought badly at least proves I got out of bed. My body is much happier if I don’t move. Once I persist in moving body gets over it and feels alright. It’s not so bad. In higher energy hours and there are a couple a day, it’s all boosters normal.

I fear I may have over-ambitioned myself for the week’s schedule of going out every night until next Monday. And some of the days.

At least I know my give a damn ain’t busted. Just a sprain. I feel like I don’t care but that’s just the fluster of pestering myself with made up have-to, want-to, got-to. You know when a plant is root bound and it starts cutting sap flow to certain branches, pulling back the extraneous, pulling the moisture back, letting some leaves drop so what remains isn’t so extended. Even plant intelligence can cover this. I think I should be able to.

 
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