I still have weird stuff happening to me. It is not Meneire’s disease. It is supposedly Benign Paroxysmal Positional Vertigo, but the treatments I’ve had have been ineffective. I now will see a neurologist.
(I’m not sure why I felt the urge to update people on that. Self-centeredness, I suppose.)
BUT! My important news is, I have a new site. Which may be unsurprising, considering that many of my recent posts have involved food. Check it out. It’s not your ordinary food blog.
My first thought was to call this post “Psychosomatic hypochondria.” Actually, my first first thought was to call it something clearer, like “Psychosomatism and hypochondria.” Only “psychosomatism” isn’t a real word, apparently, which makes little sense because etymologically speaking, nouns are usually created before adjectives. At least in the cases of words with all those Greek bits in them. You get your noun or your verb, and then you add on or change suffixes to create new derivations. To wit: psychology, psychologist, psychiatry, psychiatrist, etc. etc. etc. And “psychosomatism” seems like it’d be a rather useful word. Sure, it might more or less mean the same thing as hypochondria. But I figure, if the Inuits/Eskimos can have over 100 words for snow, United States citizens ought to have a couple decent words to choose from when describing mentally induced ailments.
But pschosomatism is not a word, and I was an English major. Hence the switch to “Psychosomatic hypochondria,” but the more I thought about that, I realized that the phrase technically means being in the state of having mentally induced or imagined the state of believing you have a bunch of diseases that you actually don’t. Which would then mean one’s ailments are, in fact, Real Things, because the imaginings of the various conditions is false. (Hey, it made sense in my head. I think.) Which isn’t what I’m going for.
All that preamble to move onto this: For the past month, I’ve been experiencing bouts of dizziness and vertigo. So far I haven’t detected an actual pattern or trigger. Movement can set it off, like when I bend over to brush my teeth, my head feels heavier than it is or should be and I have a sensation of tipping further forward than I actually have. But movement can also have nothing to do with it, like when I’m sitting on my core ball at work trying to think how I can write instruction for teaching vowel diphthongs in a vaguely interesting manner. There I sit, rather still, perhaps with a small frown of concentration on my face as I stare at “ea as in great, ea as in bread, ea as in eagle” and suddenly my brain goes, “Heeyyy! We’re tilting!” leaving me to go rather tense and vacant-eyed while I work to, literally, restore my equilibrium.
It’s become annoying and consistent enough that I’ve set up a doctor appointment. But the issue with these Vague Symptoms that Seemingly Have No Trigger is that you start to feel, well, embarrassed about them. Where do they come from? What’s inducing them? Are they really real at all, or is it truly all in your head? And that’s the jumping-off point for this post’s title.
I’ve been giving this some thought, as I truthfully have begun to wonder if these symptoms are psychosomatic and I am indulging in hypochondria. It can go something like this:
A Weird Thing happens. Huh, you* think. That was weird. I hope it doesn’t happen again. And sometimes it doesn’t, and you forget about it, and that is the end of that.
But sometimes the Weird Thing happens again. Oh, you think. There’s that Weird Thing again. It’s starting to worry me a bit. And then, sufficiently worried about the Weird Thing, you live in a state of anticipation, wondering if it will happen again or if everything will return to normal and weird will no longer have an impact on your life.
If the Weird Thing happens a third time, it’s clear there is a sort of pattern now. Even if the whys and the hows remain unknown. You now expect the Weird Thing to happen. And so it does, again and again. This is where the psychosomatism (see! It would be such a useful word) kicks in. Because I’m a visual learner, I’ve included a graphic.
And if you have a touch of hypochondria, you are likely on the lookout for other Weird Things. Hey, I sneezed and it’s not allergy season. And I don’t have a cold. Is sneezing a symptom of Ebola? Where does Ebola come from, again? Bug bites? Maybe that bump on my face I thought was a pimple is a bug bite. And if I have Ebola, do I have to have a fever? I’m feeling a bit warm; maybe I’d better go check…
Well, my temperature is normal, and I have to admit that pimple really does look like a pimple, not a bug bite. I probably don’t have Ebola. But now that I’m staring at myself in the mirror, do I have less hair than I used to? Maybe…
It doesn’t help that I’ve also had intermittent occasions of disassociation, such as the feelings of unreality one can experience when suffering from a high fever. Not to the extent depicted in this post, mind, but it’s there.
Should you have returned here from Allie’s fabulous site, allow me to continue.
I do mean disassociation, not delusion. Delusion is “If I jump off the top of this building, I will fly!” Disassociation is “If I jump off the top of this building, I won’t fly; I will fall many stories. But it doesn’t matter because this isn’t real.” (Pause.) “But just in case, I don’t want to test it.”
Even in the midst of the Weird Things happening repeatedly and other Weird Things popping up on your radar, if you’re marginally self-aware, it probably occurs to you that it could just be all in your head and you are, for some unfathomable reason, essentially doing this to yourself, thusly:
But even if it is all in your** head, it’s not a particularly comforting thought. Because you’re*** doing it to yourself†. You are making yourself miserable. Do you like sitting on your core ball, wracking your brain as to how many different ways you can say “ea as in great” in a way that doesn’t make instructors want to claw their eyes out when you suddenly feel like you’re about to topple off your core ball and slam into the ground? NO! Why would you do that to yourself? Is your subconscious really that masochistic or bored?
Oh, I’m really getting sick of all this “ea as in” crap, it says to itself while the rest of your brain remains blissfully unaware of its machinations. I need some sort of distraction. How about a touch of vertigo followed by slight nausea?
“Oh dear. I can no longer concentrate on my work due to the sensation of tilting. Also, I want to puke.”
YAYYYYY!
My appointment is on Wednesday. If I happen to lead with “I gave it a lot of thought and I don’t think it’s all in my head because what sort of person would do this to herself!” perhaps I can simply point my doctor to this URL to explain why.
And I realize this doesn’t have any sort of proper ending. Sometimes that’s life, yo.
Snickersnack* the leprechaun eased the burden of his bag of gold off his shoulders and regarded the far end of the rainbow. Why rainbows? Why was it there that he had to hide his gold? Why not at the edge of, say, the Aurora Borealis? Rainbows just seemed so . . . trite. And that cartoon leprechaun with the breakfast cereal hadn’t helped things at all. Magically delicious, indeed. The things real leprechauns ate–or imbibed, to be more accurate–had nothing to do with artificially-colored and mass-produced marshmallows. Not that they’d do anything, but he would have to lodge a complaint with Management. It was decades in coming.
“Hey!”
Snickersnack tensed. Oh, for the love of– He grabbed his gold and lifted his free hand to snap himself away from the annoying human child.
“Hey, leprechaun! I have cookies!”
Thumb and pointer finger pressed together, Snickersnack paused. He looked over his shoulder at the young human child, puffing toward him on stout–to use a kind adjective–little legs and bearing a plastic carrying container. Snickersnack’s nose twitched. Careful, Snickersnack. If the little demon catches you–
“That’s close enough,” he said when the human boy had come within ten feet. But even through the plastic lid, Snickersnack could smell it. The whiskey. The cream. But mostly the whiskey. His salivary glands started up.
Meanwhile, the human child had leaned over, head clear to his knees and carrying case pressed much too close to his chest. Surely his hideous smell couldn’t leak through the container to taint its contents. The child seemed unused to the exertion required in locating a leprechaun. And speaking of, why hadn’t Snickersnack yet completed his fingersnap and disappeared?
The boy, though still bent over, popped open the lid of his carrying container. The smell of [trade name redacted] Irish Cream wafted out. Snickersnack’s nose twitched, and his salivary glands went into waterfall mode.
Ah, yes.
But to keep up appearances, Snickersnack tightened his grip on his bag of gold.
The stout child straightened. A sly look entered his eyes. “If I give you these cookies, O Leprechaun, will you show me the end of your rainbow?”
It became necessary to pound his chest while Snickersnack stifled a guffaw and simultaneously endeavored to avoid drooling. The whiskey got him every time. “I hope that is not a euphemism,” he finally gasped out.
Blond brows pressed themselves together in consternation. “Youfa-what?”
Waving a hand, Snickersnack said, “Never mind.” He reassessed the distance between the two of them. Good enough. “Why do you think giving me cookies would entice me to give you what you want?”
“Well, Santa likes cookies.”
Snickersnack grunted. “Do I look like a ‘jolly old elf’ to you?”
“I dunno. You are wearing green.”
What sort of answer was that? Clearly the contemporary education system was failing the world’s youth.
The rotund boy rattled the container. “Cookies for rainbow?”
Snickersnack sidled closer. He was surprised the boy hadn’t requested the standard three wishes. But then, he did exhibit symptoms of extreme simplemindedness. And perhaps he ought to be concerned about where the child had procured [brand name redacted] Irish Cream. Then again, he wasn’t the bairn’s parent, and truth be told, he planned to avoid propagating himself for the foreseeable future. Therefore he couldn’t be blamed for the lack of parental instinct.
He was on the verge of acquiescing when the lad’s mien took on a vicious cant and the container of [brand name redacted] Irish Cream cookies slammed down upon his head. Stunned with the force of the blow upon his five-inch frame, Snickersnack failed to snap himself elsewhere before the boy wrapped his pudgy fingers around Snickersnack’s middle and shrieked, “Caught you! Gimme my three wishes!”
And that was how, following a series of events he swore to reveal to no one, Snickersnack the leprechaun came to join his local 12-step program.
I realize the pointlessness of [Brand name redacted] when it’s right there in the picture. Go with it, people.
Irish Cream Cookies
Characters
Dough
adapted from Lighter Rolled Cookies in How to Cook Everything
1 c/227g butter, room temperature
1 c/288g sugar
2 eggs
1/4 c Irish Cream (or more; see Tip)
3c/360g all-purpose flour
pinch salt
1 tsp baking powder
1/2 tsp baking soda
Frosting
adapted from King Arthur Flour’s Quick Buttercream Frosting
1/2 c/113 g butter, room temperature
pinch salt
1 tsp vanilla
2 1/2 to 3 c/280 to 340 g powdered sugar
2 to 4 tbs Irish Cream
green food coloring (optional)
sparkling sugar or other garnish (optional)
Scenes
1 Cream the butter and sugar. Add eggs and Irish Cream; beat until well blended.
2 In a separate bowl, whisk together the dry ingredients, then add to the wet ingredients and mix just until dough holds together.
3 Shape into 2 logs approximately 1.5 inches in diameter. Wrap in plastic and chill in the refrigerator for 2 hours or freezer for at least 30 minutes.
4 Meanwhile, prepare the frosting. Cream the butter until fluffy, then beat in the salt and vanilla. Add the sugar and Irish Cream and beat. Adjust the consistency by adding more sugar or Irish Cream, as needed. (Living in Colorado, I used the full amount of Irish Cream, plus a couple of glugs.) Add food coloring until you reach the desired color. Set aside, covered with plastic wrap to avoid drying out.
5 Preheat oven to 400 F and line baking sheets with parchment or silicone liner; or grease lightly. Slice the dough into 1/4″ slices.
6 Bake until the cookies’ edges are lightly browned and the centers are set, 8-12 minutes. Cool on the sheets for a couple of minutes before removing to a cooling rack.
7 Once the cookies have cooled entirely, use an offset spatula or butter knife to frost. Garnish with sparkling sugar or other edible tidbits as desired. Cookies will keep in an airtight container for up to two days; or freeze.
Yield: Source recipe claimed 3 dozen; I got over 5 dozen.
Tip
The source recipe from How to Cook Everything yielded a somewhat dry dough for me, I suspect due to the climate and time of year. However, I slightly overcompensated and had a wetter dough than absolutely ideal. It was necessary to chill the dough in the freezer for about 10 minutes before attempting to form into logs. Therefore, I included the equivalent amount of Irish Cream as in the source recipe as I suspect that may work better for most.
* Meaningless bonus points for anyone who catches the allusion.
(From outside, keys jangle and tumblers in lock turn.)
Hark! It is My Person, returning to me at last! Joy overwhelms my soul. The only way to express my happiness is to retrieve my raccoon and squeak it repeatedly. squeak squeak squeaka
(Door opens. Laptop, purse, and other workday accoutrements are placed on the table.)
“Hey, puppy.”
Look, My Person! I am happy to see you! I have my raccoon! It squeaks! squeak squeak squeaka
“You ready to go outside?”
Outside! Yes! I love outside, because it is sunny there and squirrels and birds are outside, and sometimes Small Humans on Scooters. I have my raccoon! It squeaks! squeak
(holding leash) “You have to drop that before we go outside.”
Outside! I love outside. There are a lot of smells, and many of them come from squirrels and birds and Small Humans on Scooters. Or Skateboards. I have my raccoon! It–
“Gimme that.”
Aww.
(once outside)
IT SNOWED! My Person, we are outside and it snowed! I love snow. I love to hop in it. hop hop
This is a good potty spot. I will potty, and then we can Go on a Walk.
I love outside. I would love it more if I did not have to be on a leash. I would also love outside more if I could have my raccoon with me. Because it–
Is that a squirrel? It is! It is a squirrel! I must hop through the snow to capture the squirrel!
“WAIT!”
My Person, it is a squirrel! We must get– Why do you always have to pick that up? I swear, My Person, sometimes I do not understand you at all.
(after having disposed of the dog waste in the proper receptacle and truly commencing the walk)
If you hadn’t had to pick that up, My Person, I could have caught that squirrel. Now it is gone. I am sad.
But it snowed! My Person, it snowed! I love snow. I love to hop in it. I love to bury my nose in it and pretend I have just found a Snow Squirrel that is in my jaws and that I am shaking. The only thing that would make snow better is if I had my raccoon in the snow, because my raccoon squeaks, but if I had my raccoon, how would I pretend-eat a snow squirrel? Maybe My Person could carry the raccoon for me–
What is that smell? Ah! It is the smell of Somewhat Small Humans! If we find the Somewhat Small Humans, maybe they will be on scooters. Or skateboards. I’m not picky.
“No pull.”
And that beautiful mound of snow! I must go hop in it and find a pretend Snow Squirrel.
(planting feet and refusing to move) “No pull.”
But the snow and the smell of Somewhat Small Humans–!
“Cassia. No.”
Oh, all right. But I am not happy about it. whine
(upon reaching the nearby middle school, which has just let out for the day)
The source of the smell of the Somewhat Small Humans! Surely at least one of them will be on a scooter. (halting)WHY ARE THERE SO MANY OF THEM?
“C’mon. It’s all right.”
No, it is not all right! There are too many Somewhat Small Humans, and none of them are on scooters! They are going to attack us! My Person, save me!
“Cassia, come on. We’re just a bit earlier than usual.”
Do you want to have me killed?
(having at last left the territory of the numerous middle schoolers)
We’re alive! And it snowed! I love snow! hop hop And we’re on a walk! And we’re alive! I must celebrate still being alive with food. My Person, I would like some food! I–
Oh, yes. You only feed me when I am in the Heel position. (navigates to heel position)
“Good girl.”
munch munch munch Yes, I am a good girl! And I am alive! I would like some more food. There is some snow over there that would be fun to hop in, but I would like some food. (pause) Maybe My Person has forgotten that I am here and would like some more food. I must remind her. nudge. pause. My Person, I am here! nudge.
“Stop it.”
nudge
(return nudge using shin)
That was not food, My Person.
(sometime later, nearing the local dog park)
The dog park! I love the dog park, because it has a lot of smells in it to smell, and a lot of snow to run in, because it snowed, My Person, and I love snow. And if there are other dogs in the dog park, I get to bark my deep scary bark that shows I want to play and am ready to play and sometimes we chase and other times we wrestle (veering toward the entrance) but there is no other dog in there oh well I can still run and–
“Not today. Just a long walk.”
You mean we’re NOT GOING? My Person, I hate you.
I would like some food. (heel position)
“Good girl.”
munch munch munch My Person, I love you.
(upon spotting a prepubescent roller blader while returning home)
It is not a Small Human on a Scooter, but the Small Human is on Wheels of some sort! MUST CHASE! bark bark lunge bark whine bark lunge
“Cassia! Leave it!”
bark whine bark lunge
“Cassia! Bad! Leave it!”
(the prepubescent roller blader approaches)
pull strain barkbarkbarkbark!
“LEAVE IT!”
(the prepubescent roller blader passes by)
lunge whiiiinnnne
“I said, leave it!”
whimperwhine
(human grumbling and bitten-off epithets)
My Person, it snowed! hop hop I would like some food. heel position, nudge
“No, you don’t get a treat after that!” (more grumbling)
(returning home at last, turning key in lock, removing leash)
“In you go.”
Our Walk is over and I am sad. There is no snow inside, or squirrels, or Small Humans on Scooters or Other Wheeled Objects. Inside is quite boring, actually–
Hey my raccoon! Look, My Person! It is my raccoon! I now have my raccoon! It squeaks! squeak squeak squeaka
fin
* written over the course of several weeks because I am lazy and currently not all that motivated to write.
…do you know where your novel is? Mine is located somewhere to the left of my medulla oblonglata.
(Or at least that’s what I’m telling myself.)
My novel is post-apocalyptic.
It will not feature ninjas.
It probably will not feature pizza. Unless, perhaps, characters discuss pizza within the context of bygone days, as in Boy, do I sure miss those bygone days when pizza was plentiful and we had electric ovens in which to cook the pizza. Which sounds boring. So no, I do not think my novel will feature pizza.
It will feature zombies (but mind you, this isn’t necessarily a zombie apocalypse).
It may or may not feature gratuitous brain-eating. I can guess, however, that the amount of gratuitous brain-eating would have a direct correlation to my concern over my word count/lack thereof. After all, one of the most common suggestions for getting rid of writer’s block is to describe something in almost excruciating detail. Brain-eating, IMHO, would trump dappled sunlight on the forest floor or whatever. And if the brains get old, there are many other organs I can move on to. With NaNo, it’s always good to have a back-up plan.
Six days and counting.
Hey there, Hungry Ninja. I know what you’re thinking. You’re thinking you’re hungry, but pizza? Pffft. That’s not ninja food. Because, after all, the origins of the ninja path and the pizza foodstuff do not coincide. They don’t even run parallel. Different continents (more or less). Different hats. And when the ninja masters of yore threw around objects, I’m sure you’d tell me, they were far pointier and deadlier than pizza dough. I agree with you, Hungry Ninja. So I can see where you’d get this idea:
It’s perfectly understandable. But Hungry Ninja, I am here to tell you that contrary to initial judgments, pizza does indeed fit quite well into the ninja lifestyle. Let’s look at how.
Now, the beauty of pizza, Hungry Ninja, is that it lends itself to a myriad of interpretations and toppings. But before we delve into that aspect, let’s discuss another one of pizza’s strengths: it can be prepared in stages, thereby fitting itself quite easily into the busy ninja lifestyle.
First, you will need some pizza dough. Since you are a ninja, this will be easy to acquire. On a day when you are not vanquishing enemies, you might decide to set some time aside to make your own pizza dough, but this is not strictly necessary. Frozen dough is found at many grocery stores. Alternatively, suppose one of your nemeses is a baker. Time your defeat of the baker just right, which of course will be no problem because you are a ninja, and snag up some rising pizza dough as part of your spoils.
Once you have your dough, you will need to let it rise. This may seem like an onerous, time-consuming task, but keep in mind that you do not have to be present. Use the time for further training in your ninja arts, strike fear into and/or disembowel another mortal enemy or three, wash your ninja hood, or get started on the toppings for your pizza. The toppings are where you can really let your ninjahood shine!
Suppose during the dough’s rise, you do indeed venture forth to vent your fury upon an adversary. After you have proven triumphant (which of course you will because you are a ninja), don’t be too quick to dispose of the carcass or display it as a warning to all who would defy you. Instead, take a step back and think, What might go well on my pizza?
Hungry Ninja, I herewith humbly offer a few suggestions.
Drain a bit of your opponent’s blood to use on the pizza either straight or as a tasty reduction sauce. But don’t stop at the blood; if you were able to resist tearing the still-beating heart from your adversary’s chest, instead take it to cut into chunks for your pizza. Likewise, you may do this with the liver, kidney, or brain–
Whoops! Maybe not the brain, unless you a Hungry Zombie Ninja.
Other options, and what’s pictured below, include chicken sausage, fresh mozzarella, green onions, and garlic scapes.*
*Ingredients perhaps more suitable if Mrs. Ninja will also partake
Now that you have your toppings ready, let’s return to the dough. After its rise, you will need to stretch it out.
Ninja Tactic! For a circular crust more so in the shape of a yin/yang symbol, oil the outside of a bowl, place it on the counter upside-down, and let gravity, which is not your mortal enemy, do the work.
Dough Tactic!
Now’s a good time to preheat your oven, if you haven’t already. You’ll want it at 400 degrees F. (And I know ninjas are probably more likely to use Celsius. But you are a ninja, so you can figure out the conversion.)
Double Ninja Tactic! Use a pizza stone, and store it in your oven. Not only will your oven heat more evenly and provide your pizzas with a crisp crust (because soggy bottoms should have nothing to do with ninjas); it may come in handy if ever under attack in your own home. Say you are cornered in the kitchen. Your enemy does not know that you have a solid disc of stone in your oven. You may use your ninja reflexes to yank open the oven door, remove the stone, and fling it at your nemesis, speedily decapitating him or her. Of course, if the oven has been on the stone will be hot and may perhaps burn you, but you are ninja and so can take it, while doing further harm to your enemy. Win-win for Hungry Ninja, lose-lose for your unwise ninja enemy.
Hot stone ready for use in decapitation or pizza-making!
Your stone should heat, ideally, for around an hour. Then parbake your pizza crust for 6-8 minutes. This will ensure that the crust is baked through and does not have a doughy center after you’ve put on the toppings. Doughy centers should also have nothing to do with ninjas.
So now your crust is parbaked. You may wrap it in plastic and freeze, particularly if there is a certain foe whose heart you feel would make a sublime topping but whom you haven’t gotten around to dispatching yet, busy ninja that you are, or, if you are ready, top it with your ingredients. Turn up your oven’s heat to 450 degrees, and bake until the crust is golden brown and the adversarial blood sauce is bubbling.
Not adversarial blood but still tasty!
And there you have it, Hungry Ninja–pizza! I hope you now see just how easily pizza can work for you. Ingest your enemy’s life force and enjoy!
Disclaimer: This ought to go without saying, but this post is written for entertainment purposes only. I do not advocate using pizza stones to decapitate people, and cannibalism is just icky.
She, and the extensive walking/exercise and obedience training involved in Being a Good Dog Owner, is one of my many excuses for not writing.
Other excuses include:
*Well, not technically bone shaking. I don’t even quiver, really, at the thought of writing. But it’s been so long since I’ve done it that it’s become vastly intimidating. Here is another picture of my dog to cheer myself up.
…in several rambling steps.
1
Foster a deep love of winter squash, pumpkin in particular, that leads to compulsive purchase of the gourds at grocery stores and farmers market, even though you receive more than enough vegetables through your CSA and will supposedly receive winter squash from the CSA in the near future. Develop collection of the gourds and roast and puree some.
2
Read too many food blogs. Become inspired to do something unusual with the pumpkin puree sitting in your fridge and document the process using your crappy, five-year-old point-and-shoot. Select pumpkin gnocchi because– Well. Actual reasons matter not.
3
Find several pumpkin gnocchi recipes on the Internet. Elect to cobble three of them into your own. Select one to refer to for measurements, but Google around for measurement conversions because it seems everybody still gets out the measuring cups even though they are much less accurate and more work than weighing things using a kitchen scale.
4
Find a weight equivalent that seems fairly accurate. Plop your pumpkin, flour, and egg yolk in a bowl. Realize the Microplane grater you need for the nutmeg is currently in the dishwasher, which is running. Remove grater from dishwasher and give it a cursory dry-off.
5
Decide that “a dash of nutmeg,” as two of the recipes call for, is not enough. Grate your whole nutmeg directly into the bowl until you have a nice little pile. Inhale and enjoy the aroma.
6
Begin mixing the dough together. Realize that it is much too wet. Add flour.
7
Realize the dough is still too wet. Add flour.
8
Suspect that the dough is still too wet. Find more recipes on Internet with pictures detailing what the dough should look like when it’s ready to roll out into logs. Conclude the dough is, indeed, still too wet. Add flour.
9
Develop sinking sense that the pumpkin gnocchi is unlikely to taste of much besides flour. Add more anyway, as the dough is still too wet.
10
Check time. Begin to panic as you have to leave in an hour and the whole making-pumpkin-gnocchi thing is taking longer than you anticipated. Add flour.
11
Spill flour on self. Tell self for the fifth time that self really needs to purchase one of those cute aprons for times such as these.
12
Cheer as the dough finally starts to look cohesive enough to roll into logs on a well-floured surface. Proceed to do so.
13
Cut logs into gnocchi-pieces. Cut corners on shaping by just quickly pressing them with the tines of a fork, rather than the whole pick up and place in palm while gently rolling the tines of a fork across the dumpling’s surface bit.
14
Pause to admire gnocchi and mentally tell them that even though several are misshapen and they all probably taste bad, they are still cute. Even with the strands of pumpkin sticking out of some. Make note that the stick blender is not the way to puree pumpkin for gnocchi-making.
15
Cover in plastic wrap and leave gnocchi in refrigerator while you’re out.
16
Return home three hours later hungry and wondering how you will make the gnocchi palatable. Worry again that gnocchi will taste of nothing but flour. Think of the pumpkin swirl loaf you made yesterday and how, despite the “swirl” bit not coming through, it was probably a better use of the pumpkin puree. Particularly with your inspired addition of cardamom. Remember that you never took a picture of the bread. Do so now, when it’s sliced for freezer storage.
17
Conclude the sauce will be the key in attempting even minor tastiness of the gnocchi. Wish you had the time, and the ingredients, for a sage brown butter sauce, of which several of the Internet recipes include a variation. Settle for thinning out some apple butter with water, tossing in some cinnamon, and heating in a small skillet.
18
Feel dubious about the “sauce’s” unattractive brown color, in addition to still feeling dubious about the gnocchi itself. Prepare salted water to boil gnocchi.
19
Remove gnocchi from fridge. Select several to toss in boiling water. Pray they actually float to the top within a few minutes, as they are supposed to.
20
Watch gnocchi float to top of boiling water. Cheer. Remove from heat and drain. Pour unattractive sauce on top.
21
Eat. Enjoy the flavor of nutmeg (see, it was good to ignore the “pinch of nutmeg” instruction). Think to self that the gnocchi actually isn’t half-bad. Nice mouthfeel. Firm, but with a bit of give. And the apple butter sauce, while a tad sweet, isn’t terrible either.
22
Chalk it up to a semi-success.
What with my near-continuous lack of writing, both in terms of my blog and with fiction, I’ve been doing some writerly soul searching. Mind, the soul searching has been sporadic, a jigsaw puzzle with half the pieces missing and the ones I’ve got not matching up with each other. On the surface, it feels like my well of ideas is running dry–but I believe creativity is exponential, and that it’s also work. I haven’t been putting in the work, ergo the dearth of ideas.
Then when I do get ideas, little snippets will appeal, but the whole–if there is a whole, if the snippets have kindly knit themselves into something resembling An Actual Story–I wind up feeling meh about after a day, two, a week. Part of this could be related to fear–I always become daunted by the enormity of storytelling, of creating good storytelling, when I haven’t written in some time.
And again, the solution is to just write.
Then there’s the time issue. I joined a CSA this year, and while I’m enjoying the challenge of cooking with the seasons and experiencing new foods (kohlrabi! garlic scapes!) the food prep is time-consuming. As is the food preservation prep. I’m also committed to getting in my workouts , as I see them as an investment in my future and, yanno, not dying a premature death (well, outside of car accidents and other things over which I have no control).*
However, I also believe that there is always time for something you truly want to do. It’s a matter of priorities. And truthfully, it’s easier for me now when I’m single and don’t have a family to care for. I could give up, or at least cut down on, Netflix. I could shorten my leisure reading times (sniffle). I could start pawning off ginormous zucchini and extra wax beans on neighbors and coworkers.**
These excuses and negations of excuses are what I call hamster-wheel thoughts, the ones that keep spinning and spinning without ever going anywhere. I know there are no excuses. It’s not a recent revelation. I’ve known it since before “I’m not writing today” turned into “I’m not writing this season, except for the odd blog post or occasional addition to a WIP.” And yet I’m still not writing.
So. Next question. Do I want to stop writing? To be content with cooking and baking and Netflix and workouts and forget writing?
At which my soul, or my muse, or any other writing-related entity you care to envision, let out a wail of despair. Yes, I want to continue writing, and yes, I want to pursue publication, but even if I am not published, I don’t want to give up on it. I love stories too much, and regardless of whether superficially it seems my well of ideas is running dry, I have my own to tell.
Which means I’ve got to get off this Hamster Wheel of Doom. Even if it’s one paw at a time.
*My suspension trainer was one of the best purchases I made this year.†
**Though the selfish part of me cringes at that, because I spent a fair chunk of money on this CSA share, darn it!
†Ahh, footnoted footnotes! How I’ve missed you. I would hug you if you were tangible.
Anyway, I am too lazy to figure out how I made my footnotes smaller in previous posts, so I’m letting these go at the normal size.
… if it isn’t Amanda!
(coughs) Hey, website.
How are you? Seems like it’s been ages since you’ve graced my pages. I’d give you the exact number of months, but having to say it may cause me to have a brain aneurysm.
More likely me than you, seeing as I’m the one with an actual brain. (coughs)
True enough. I’d apologize for all the dust, but we both know that’s not my fault.
Yeah, yeah…
Anyway, so what’ve you been up to, lo, these many months?
Well, there was the move into the townhouse.
Mm-hmm. And as I recall, that was completed about two months ago.
But then there was the unpacking of boxes. And I’m still not done with that.
But you see your floor, right? You’re “done enough” to go shopping on the weekends and whatnot.
To the farmer’s market! I’m buying local! And I joined a CSA, so I have all this food prep to do to keep the food from going to waste.
Didn’t I also hear that you joined Netflix again?
Um, yeah. But I’m only on the one-out-a-time plan!
Oh, of course. And how about that satellite you were thinking you’d cancel as a result of rejoining Netflix?
Er. Still connected.
I see. And Netflix has greatly improved its streaming service since you were last a member. So I’m told.
(coughs)
I think you’ve already cleared away the dust, dear.
But I do much more stuff than watch movies! I’ve been working to improve my posture and mobility. And I bought a Freestyle Suspension Trainer to help with workouts. I mean, I don’t want to reach 60 and be unable to move due to sitting all the time.
Laudable goals, yes. And regarding that bit about sitting all the time–didn’t you have plans to purchase a treadmill and treadmill desk so you could walk while writing?
I’m waiting for my $8000 tax credit to come in.
All right, Amanda, let’s cut to the chase. How’s the writing coming along?
. . .
It’s not coming along, is it? What about Holly Lisle’s How to Think Sideways course that you signed up for as a means to–what was it? Jumpstart you?
(sighs) I’m still getting the lessons, but I’m about six weeks behind now. I think. It might be more. I discovered my pet idea that’s supposedly been percolating in my head since NaNoWriMo ’04 has no plot. Worse, I can’t give it one. Nothing fits. Everything I think of feels wrong. I don’t want to give up on it, website, but I think I need to shelve it again. And it’s not that I don’t have any other ideas to use for Think Sideways, but I just feel, stymied, you know? I mean, it’s a huge blow to one’s–well, my–writerly ego to realize I have problems with plot. I like Stephen King’s concept of Story and all, but I don’t think his method of write write write and let things flow really works for me. I mean, I can do it–I’ve finished NaNo that way–but then I wind up with a series of events that aren’t Story. And there’s a decided lack of conflict. So I need more structure upfront, I think. But at the same time, I feel like Think Sideways may be too structured for me, even though it’s supposed to be designed to walk the balance between left-brain and right-brain writing. (grabs a tissue and sniffles)
There, there. Let it all out. I’d pat you on the back if I had hands.
Thanks, website. (blows nose) But that’s not the worst of it. (lowers voice to a whisper) I think my muse left me.
Oh, my. That is serious. Please know that if I had arms, I would now give you a hug.
I appreciate it, website, particularly since I’ve been so remiss with you for the past, um, mumblety-something days/weeks/months. Like I said, I have other ideas I could use for Think Sideways, but they’re overall ideas that still need more plotting. And it also sucks that I’ve lost ground with Think Sideways since my original idea isn’t panning out. Now I have to go back and repeat some lessons.
Careful; you’re starting to whine.
But if I can’t whine to you, website, whom can I whine to? Then a while ago Miss Snark’s First Victim had a post called On Writing As Career. I get her point, I truly do. And I believe it. If I want to write for my career, I have to treat it as a career now. But what with the full-time job and the CSA and the cooking and the mobility work and–well, everything, I don’t have much more time to devote to writing. Then the prep work I do doesn’t feel like it’s writing, even though I know ostensibly it’s saving me time in the long run.
(sighs) Look, Amanda, you already know the responses to your excuses and the answers to your unspoken questions. You’ve said yourself that writers write, period. You’ve said that the only way to get past writer’s block is to write through it. If you really feel the prep work from Think Sideways isn’t helping you, or that it’s not “real” writing, then take a break from that and get back to the basics. Journal. Write a scene you do have in mind. Blather on for page after page about character development.
Um, but I don’t want to wind up in the Stephanie Meyer route, with lots and lots of “characterization” but little to no actual plot. Particularly since I already show unfortunate tendencies in that direction.
Says the unpublished writer regarding the multimillion-dollar author. You may not want to write like Stephanie Meyer, but she did manage to get published. Go thou and do likewise.
(thoughtful silence) Hey, website?
Yes?
You’re not my muse, are you?
Do you want the psychobabble/metaficition bit about me being part of your subconscious that you have consciously employed in order to write this post, or do you want to stick with the simpler “you’re weird”?
Weird’s good for writing. If you mean weird in terms of creativity, I mean.
Weird it is, then.*
Hey! I see that footnote!
Go away and write something.
* Sounds better than nutjob, too, I suppose.
