Finally, finally, all things Italy are done. The planning, the packing, the photos, the writing. And when you’ve spent the time that I have getting ready for a trip like this, there’s a kind of void after it’s over. A huge void. Kind of like the Grand Canyon.
I just might be…
…and I’m not quite certain…
…but thinking perhaps that…
I’m never bored.
I’m not quite sure what to do about this feeling.
And even more strange?
Because I’ve been up to my ears with all things flickr, Photoshop, iPhoto, and Blurb, I’m not in the mood to sit here, either. It’s Friday and the whole weekend is yawning ahead. It is Friday, isn’t it?
I thought so.
I’ve got three cookbooks opened to some very nice brioche recipes all requiring overnight refrigeration, (I can’t decide if I want plain or chocolate…) and I’m wondering whether the MoH would like to go down to the water tonight to sit and stare at the horizon with a bit of food and something nice to drink. Or maybe go see Mama Mia…
But there are other things to consider as well:
- Like how to get my doggo to stop her incessant scratching and my cat’s interminable yeowling. The fleas are beyond nasty this year, and although I’ve sprayed, and vacuumed, and washed, brushed, combed and yes, finally broke down and bought some Frontline (disgusting poison…), it doesn’t seem to have put a dent in them. I. Hate. Fleas. Which is why I hate carpeting. And whomever conducted that study that reported simple vacuuming daily will eliminate up to 99% of the fleas because it destroys their shells? What-ever, dood. Sounds good, but no cigar. Well, not around here, anyway. My cat is the world’s greatest fleabus. It doesn’t make sense to me. We have almost NO dirt anywhere. There are flagstones, and concrete, a few flowerbeds that are predominantly damp, a patch of damp grass…WHAT GIVES?
- I need a new book. I loved Such a Pretty Fat by Jen Lancaster (laughed my ass off…well…not quite since my scale still insists upon telling me the gawd awful truth). It lambastes Jenny Craig and the whole concept of a weight-loss plan that includes packaged food AND has the greatest kiss-off line I’ve heard in a long time. Click the link and watch the video. I also just finished The Patron Saint of Liars by Ann Pachett, one of my favorite authors. It was her first novel, and I’m letting it stew a bit before I say what I need to say about it. But her books have that effect on me. And since I’m on a “thinking about writing seriously” kick (again) and still have 8 gazillion books here I haven’t read that can inspire me from one perspective or another and keep me from actually doing my own writing, Dave Eggers’ A Heartbreaking Work of Staggering Genius is next up. It looks to prove that when you want to write a book, you can write whatever you want, and sometimes, people notice. Yes, even people like myself, who notice, then let it sit on their bookshelf for, oh, about five or six years.
- I need to sign up for a photography class and a writing class (you know, because sometimes, homework is a good thing…) through one of the university extensions here. I seem to have recovered from my post traumatic distress syndrome over all things “school,” and both of these classes will occupy my time, feed my creativity, and give me yet another excuse to not actually start my own real writing. Okay, so writing somewhere other than this blog.
- I have to make a fix-it list for this house. I know I used to joke quite a bit about it, but jeez. I’m tired of putting money into having the carpet cleaned and want to rip it out of the house and heave it out the windows. I need a painter to even out the walls where boys incapable of standing up without hanging onto the walls have left smudges that can no longer be wiped. And the fence on the patio needs replacing (along with the neighbor it shields us from), along with the drip sprayers and lights. Then there are the screens the cats wrecked (and the one I totaled while we were trying to break into our house last night after swimming because we were locked out….) because the extra key wasn’t in it’s normal place… and…yes, things need to be fixed. I checked. There is a Handyman section in the Yellow Pages. My fingers will be walking. Soon. They will be walking miles.
- And last but not least, try not to feel so wistful about this blog. It’s sort of crawling along while my food blog is roaring. Okay, so, not like the Internet Market type roar, but everything’s relative, yes? As much as I enjoy both of them, this one is special because it’s just about whatever comes to mind. It’s me. And sure, so is the other one, but it’s about my food, which isn’t necessarily me, even though they say, “You are what you eat.” Um, thank-you. Next? But the crickets have been chirping loudly here lately, and I’m trying to adjust to the idea that it’s okay and that I didn’t set out to write here to do anything other than expend energy and get back into the habit of writing. From that perspective, it’s all been worth it. One step leads to another, right?
So shut up and write.
On to the brioche…
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