Clue has clued me in to the fact that I feel like a ravenous, raging, terrible beast for an evolutionary reason. All this insanity is for some future peanut to be allowed to be shot through my particular goal posts. Is that better than just being maniacal for shits and giggles? More noble or moral?
Let’s not try and answer the bigger questions tonight. Tomorrow’s Friday. We don’t even have to time travel far to get there.
Cooking. Made chicken thighs in the dutch oven.
Here’s what I put on it. This all came about by guessing what might not taste horrible. I sauteed some garlic with some dried chicken stock starter seasoning the tiniest bit of of olive oil. Once those were browned and smelling so good you wanted to just lick the hot pan, I added maybe a 1/3rd of a cup of water and splashed that around. That looked questionable, like…just garlic floating in water, so then I threw in a plastic punnet full of grape tomatoes and cooked those down until they were soft and easy to smash. Cooked the smashed tomatoes, added a bayleaf, some salt to taste, a bit of garlic powder, and a tiny splash of the oil from the chicken thighs. It thickened up gloriously. Added some red pepper flakes and cooked it just a bit more. Poured a nice heap on the chicken and roasted cauliflower I made (with some rice, but I decided not to eat so much of it as it was leftover rice, emphasis on the leftover – all fridge-hardened and lifeless).
This was very good for fucking around in the kitchen. Also, I spazzed out (exercised) for half an hour and then ate some ice cream. I feel pretty alright about all of it. Funny how getting food in your stomach, and some movement after sitting all day stressing about projects and boys and things yet and never to be, can straighten your head out a bit.
The trip to Seattle is coming up in a few months and one of the lovely, darling, effervescent ladies who will be there (and might read this, so hello, if you do!) shared a picture of our last gathering. I had the usual picture response I have where I just hate myself from top to bottom for not appear in reality remotely like I recognize myself to appear internally. More cherubic than elfin, stubby, not lithe and capable of leaping tall buildings in a single bound.
But at the same time, I also remembered how amazing a time that was. How fun to be with people I shared stupid inside jokes with and people willing to be dumb and happy in public. How much I admire each and every one of those who took part in that. How beautiful I thought they all were.
So I can’t really get to elfin. I can’t really get reborn on Krypton. Not in 3 months. But I can get stretchier and have more endurance and overall better ability to enjoy everything this convention of like minds in Seattle will offer. I can do this. I can do this. I can do…something more than nothing.
Also wrote some.
Nobody died. Can you believe it? We braced all day, clenched and squinted, shuffled and shambled as though the blade were at our throats and nobody died at all.