Cooking

Here's another story about myself that I need to change: I am not a good cook.

The more accurate story is: I don't enjoy cooking, and frequently choose to do any number of other things rather than cook.

During the time I was with _storyteller_ and uncrowned_king, my household enjoyed more nice, family-style meals than I've had since I left my parents' home. _storyteller_ was a trained chef and had been in charge of supplies and meal planning for Air Force kitchens. uncrowned_king wasn't as much of a cook, but loved the family-style meals and came to simply enjoy preparing and sharing them with me and my daughter. And their presence made cooking enjoyable. _storyteller_ also showed me how simple and effective it is to plan meals.

Since they are no longer with me as partners, I've slid right back into my previous bachelor habits. I'm tired when I come home from work, and while I yearn for a nice meal with my daughter, cooking is the last thing I want to do. I buy meat that languishes in the meat drawer and forget to use it. I have eggs that I never cook for breakfast, even as I dream about uncrowned_king's skillet breakfast. I keep falling back on grilled chicken and quesadillas instead of eating more healthy and balanced meals.

As I typed the above, I realized that I need to actively involve my daughter in meal planning and prep, not just inviting her to cook with me (which she enjoys). If she is involved in meal planning, she can do some of the prep work before I get home from work, so I don't have to start from zero.

Having a healthy, home-cooked, at-the-table dinner is so important to family togetherness, especially since my daughter is still in bed when I leave for work during the week, and of course we don't see each other at lunch. It's important for my morale as well.

The issue is prioritizing it and sticking to it -- not from a willed sense of duty, but from somehow finding the satisfaction and pleasure inherent in the process.

Monday Morning & Myers-Briggs Insights

I had a nice, quiet weekend, lightened by a surprisingly enjoyable performance of a melodrama spoof called The Villain's Web at Second Story Rep. I had a good solid sleep last night.

But I woke tired and don't want to go to work.
The fact that my gadget's calendar tells me I have a meeting with Miss V this morning does nothing to enhance my mood.

I didn't work on updating my resume for the training position over the weekend.


Last week at my team's offsite, we worked with our Myers-Brigg's profiles. I'm an INTJ: introverted, intuitive, thinking, judgmental. Which means: I recharge my energy by being alone; I rely more on intuition to process information than simply my five senses and prefer big-picture work rather than being down in the details; I make decisions more by logic and reason than by thinking about relationships and harmony; and I prefer my life to have order and planning rather than be spontaneous.

My day job is better suited for an Extroverted Sensor: someone energized by contact with other people, and who likes focusing on the details. My boss has ADD and is frequently changing plans -- thus requiring me to make a lot of last-minute schedule changes and needing new projects and priorities done before I finsih the previous ones (although, to his credit, he hasn't demanded unreasonable tasks or changes to my own schedule).

On the other hand, my boss is ENTJ, so we relate to each other fairly well. Most of the others on the team are ISTP (all but one), which means that most of us are introverts. Which, when you think about it, makes for an interesting team dynamic. Instead of hanging out together, or going out for lunches, and doing the things that E's do to make the work day more enjoyable, we're all running off alone as often as possible so we can recover from the stress of working an an aggressively "E" company, doing jobs that require us to be actively, productively engaged with other people most of the time.

No wonder I come home drained and the last thing I want to do is a detail-oriented chore like cooking. Or even feel eager to interact with my daughter. I just want some quiet and peace and the freedom to be expansive and abstract.

Poetry

It's kind of embarrassing to admit, but I usually don't care much for poetry. A poem almost always has to connect with me in a fairly explicit personal way for me to respond with any kind of enthusiasm.

But I've been gifted with poetry twice in the past few days and was both touched and honored by the giving. There's something about being the recipient of a poem, whether it was written for me or not, that makes me feel special.

wordweaverlynn left this poem by Edna St. Vincet Millay in response to my "Lonely" post. I'm reposting because it's beautiful and I want to pass it on, and because I want to be able to see it easily during the day.


If to be left were to be left alone,
And lock the door and find one's self again—
Drag forth and dust Penates of one's own
That in a corner all too long have lain;
Read Brahms, read Chaucer, set the chessmen out
In classic problem, stretch the shrunken mind
Back to its stature on the rack of thought—
Loss might be said to leave its boon behind.
But fruitless conference and the interchange
With callow wits of bearded cons and pros
Enlist the neutral daylight, and derange
A will too sick to battle for repose.
Neither with you nor with myself, I spend
Loud days that have no meaning and no end.

--Edna St. Vincent Millay


There were other poems too, over the weekend, that were special blessings which I am not free to share, but they moved me to tears -- and even inspired me to create some poetry of my own response. (No, I'm not going to post it.)

There is such power in words.


But I guess that's why we're all here, isn't it?

What I've Lost

I only just realized one reason why I’m having such a hard time coping with daily life these days.

It’s not just the grief of Lohain’s loss and the end of the romantic relationship with Lee, or the ongoing frustration of the day job.

I’ve lost the nurturing presence of two loving men in my home.
I’ve lost kisses for every reason and for no reason at all.
I’ve lost hugs when I leave for work in the morning and when I return at night.
I’ve lost encouraging emails and loving voicemails throughout the day.
I’ve lost strong arms holding me as I go to sleep at night.
I’ve lost toe-curling, soul-soaring lovemaking.
I've lost bdsm scenes that challenge and liberate me.
I’ve lost snuggles and laughter and discussions when watching movies together.
I’ve lost company and cheerfulness when doing my household chores.


In short: I’ve lost what had been an ever-present, ever-bountiful source of nourishment for my heart and soul.


No wonder life is so hard right now.
Part of me is starving to death – and I didn’t even realize it until now.

Should Have Been

There should have been keening
And a burning boat

There should have been a feast
with great joints of meat
and horns of mead

Fires should have blazed
Fires for my King of Wands
Fires to defy the dark
Fires to light his way

There should have been songs
and tales
Prayers and vows

An entire tribe should
have raged and cried
So the gods themselves
paid heed

There was only the
harsh voices of the ravens
The howls of wolves
His wolves
And my silent screams

Thank the Goddess. . .

. . . for kateri_thinks and a_belletrist.

Who made me smile and feel loved again.

I Have Given Myself Permission to Not Do The 3-Day

The 3-Day/60 mile Susasn G. Komen for the Cure Breast Cancer Walk is September 7-9.
Five months ago, when I decided to do it, I was somewhat scared, but excited about rising to the challenge of fundraising and physical training.

Then life happened.
Death happened.
Moving happened.

And I didn't train for two months.

And grief keeps happening, and the day job keeps happening, and the pool parties keep happening.

And I haven't trained at all.

And maybe if I was an extrovert I would still be excited at the thought of going and doing just what I could on the walk, and reveling in the company of thousands of others gathered for a common cause, and get high off the energy of all those people with a single passion.

Me? The thought exhausts and intimidates me.

I don't need to take two days off of work (the first day and the day after) to exhaust myself walking as far as I can, and then spend my recuperation time in a tent city with a thousand strangers who I know are going to be louder than the worst pool parties here at the apartment.

The one thing holding me back from withdrawing before was a_belletrist, the courageous friend who agreed to embark on this adventure with me. How could I invite her to do this, then quit on her just before it started? We haven't been able to get together or even connect on the phone for weeks, and I was getting more and more stressed. I wanted to get her permission to quit, and was ashamed to ask.

Today on the way home from work I was talking with kateri_thinks about this, and came to the realization that I have raised $1,600 for breast cancer research, and that's the important thing. The walk I did for myself. And it was what I needed back in February/March.

Now it is not what I need.

What I need is to find an comfortable and inexpensive hotel and go on retreat for those four days, give myself space and quiet to write and grieve and pray and do ritual and write some more. And take some gentle walks in the sunshine and fresh air.

And I needed to claim the authority to make the decision for myself, not seek permission from someone else, even from one of my best friends.

To those of you who contributed, I thank you from the bottom of my heart for caring enough to support me and make a difference in the lives of the thousands of women (and their loved ones) who will face breast cancer in the years to come. The money you gave will combine with the donations of others to make a powerful difference, irregardless of whether or not I participated in the walk.

Damn $!*# Kids in the Pool!

It's 8:57pm
Full dark.
Time to shut down the computer.
Time to go up to my bedroom and read quietly, write in my journal, pray.

And what do I get?
Another pool party: shouts, splashes, and shrieks.

I want to throw things.

Things that go BANG!


Dragonfire from above.


They don't seem to give the slightest damn that people live around the pool, and that maybe we'd like to enjoy the evening without their noise.

It's like living in a damn dormitory again.



Ok. Time for a hot shower. It will block some of the noise and help me calm down and center.


Ye gods, what a day.