I love that on blogspot, to write a new blog, one clicks "create" to do so. I always feel so inspired; I am going to create. Or not, depending on how it turns out. Which reminds me of my cooking, actually...
When I woke, wrapped in the cocoon of silky toffee colored sheets, I felt a lift of spirit as I remembered it was January. I love the month of January; I love its clean, bright expanse of days, the growing light and the simplicity of it. It is always such a relief after the jumbled and emotional impact of December and all those heavy holidays at the tail end of it.
I spent New Year's Day puttering around the house, determined to clean but was reminded merely of why I don't make New Year's resolutions in the first place: I never keep them.
The laundry which has been sitting in and out of two laundry baskets in the bedroom were sorted through. In it were my husband's shirt, a multitude of his dirty socks and various other items.
Days ago I snagged the last tee shirt that he wore before leaving and currently wear it under my flannel PJs at night, regardless of its undeniably musky aroma. I am reluctant yet to give it up, though everything else did get washed.
I also attempted to cook. I had a frozen pork chop that, in my undernourished state, looked good to me. It weighed exactly 1.7 lbs. I put it in the microwave on "auto defrost" and punched in the exact weight and it spat out 16 minutes of defrosting time necessary. Seeing no reason to suspect my microwave of libel, I innocently punched "start" and ambled away.
Approximately 12 minutes later I heard the microwave beep faintly. I went to inspect; the microwave said sedately "turn," but it was far behind the times; the pork chop was fully microwave cooked, rancid smell and all. As there was nothing else in the cupboard, I attempted to redeem the chop by pan frying it with cinnamon, black pepper and garlic salt.
Which reminds me; according to an article I read recently, cinnamon is one of those things which should be eaten once a day for the rest of one's life, in order to live as long and healthy as humanly possible.
This was written in a magazine that had an advertisement for a food product labeled helpfully "FlaxPlus: Organic." I'm going to go out on a limb here and guess it to be about as palatable as GrapeNuts...just a guess. (My apologies to anyone reading my blog who enjoys GrapeNuts. My hat is off to you. You probably already know by heart the Foods-For-Life list.)
The other Foods-For-Life were as follows:
milk or cheese
yogurt (or other fermented foods),
tea or coffee
Various daily menus come to mind. I can think of several breakfasts alone which would incorporate two thirds of the list and I am resolved to try it. (This is not a resolution; it's a resolve and the two are entirely different, I assure you.)
In any case, I did eat the chop and as it was thoroughly burned on both sides, I couldn't tell if the combination of spices had worked or not.
Also, the practical clothing that I purchased so carefully are all a size to big and the colors all wrong. (This clothing was bought earlier on during that heady day, when I had agonized over whether or not a cable knit sweater marked down to ten dollars was a justifiable purchase, and before I was heedlessly tossing in satin pillows at twenty five dollars a pop, drunk on redecorating.)
Apparently there is a reason I buy only formal, impractical clothing; I have no idea at all how to buy casual apparel. I resolve, therefore, to stick to what I know best; to being overdressed at every occasion. (This despite the fact that my one remaining pair of jeans has a history as eventful and disreputable as any politician currently serving in the White House.)
Finally, I resolve never to believe my microwave.
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