My strategy of displaying all of my not-used-for-nine-years-and-hardly-ever-used-before-that cookbooks on a bookcase in the kitchen, rather than out of sight in a cabinet, is working: Tonight I've been skimming through three of them. Because I want to make something exotic? No. Because I'm not entirely sure of what to do with the cabbage, eggplant, potatoes, tomatoes and onions that I got as an introduction to the CSA I'm about to join at the community garden down the street. (The peaches, I'm pretty sure I can handle.)
Is it sad that I don't know what to do with these things? ("Thngs": the technical term.) Or is it encouraging that I'm quite happily edging toward reform? Is it a phase, or will it last? Time will tell.
Of course, once I start cycling again and running again and working more on photos and videos again (who knows, maybe dating again), this effort may wane. But by then maybe I'll have a better idea of what I'm doing and won't have to struggle with every step. At any rate it's worth a try for now, and I'm into it. The city girl turns country; the working girl turns domestic.
Also tonight I got "my" key to the community garden down the street, and that's a very very very wonderful thing.
Comments