Food & Me

It turns out that I do love food, after all. Especially the preparation. The more from scratch it is, the better I like it. I learned how to turn coconuts and almonds into flour and milk on Tuesday, and made more almond flour & milk today. Soaked almonds are good, I discovered! In the past four days, I have made seven batches of cookies - four of the same kind. I made borsch today (my Ukrainian housemate insists there isn't supposed to be a 't' at the end). I made sourdough pancakes this morning, and they finally - after 4 rounds - turned out perfect. The past couple weeks when I've thrown what I have together, it's turned out tasty and mostly colourful. I think each success builds my enjoyment and desire for more cooking, baking, and food.

Food and I have an interesting relationship. "It's complicated," you might say. It never used to be. Up until a couple years ago, Food and I got along great. I ate what I pleased, baked whenever I felt like it, lackadaisical and worry free. Then came the wrench - gluten. Now, mind you, I am SO much better off when I don't eat gluten that I have NO desire to ever, EVER eat it again. The concept of eating gluten-free doesn't bother me. In fact, it makes me happy. Even dairy free (this past year) isn't hard in itself (except for cheese...). BUT. The complication is this: when my diet is that restricted, I eat alone. I cook alone, I eat alone, I don't bake because I can't eat it all. I can't just join the dinner party for kicks and giggles. I can, theoretically, plan to prepare a meal for myself and others, but getting others to actually BE here when it's dinner time, or breakfast time, is rather tricky. A couple months ago I realized that I was actually avoiding food, and it freaked me out. I love food, don't I? So I sat down and thought about it. As well as I could see it, the problem was the alone-ness of it all. I had gotten so tired of eating alone that I just wouldn't eat rather than have to sit down by myself in an empty kitchen. Oh, dear.

Apparently, I just want to share. So when my Faithgroup has a potluck, I jump at making dessert. Then do it again, and again... and enjoy the making better each time, and even if I don't eat very much of what I made, watching others enjoy it makes me love it. Then, when they come to me before we eat to double-check ingredients with me, oh! it makes me smile! They remember! They think about gluten when they're cooking, and lo! and behold! I can eat with them! And it makes all the difference in the world. Food has always been with people, you see. My family ate dinner together every night. I grew up with church and music department potlucks, and whenever friends gathered, we ate and drank tea. So when Food and I get locked in a room together with no one else around, we don't get along too well. I don't know how to relate to Food, and he just looks at me. Awkward silence ensues. But if we get outside that room, and promenade down to the park, and sit around tables at the cafe, and converse and interact with other people, suddenly we get along much better. More or less depending on the people, of course, but it's like one's relationship with Food is not meant to be kept to oneself. Food must be shared, like that adorable puppy everyone stops to pet.

Ah, Food. I like you, I really do. We just need to learn to communicate. I like you, want you, and need you, so do you think we can work this out? I hope so.

Sunlight

Today was warm.

I got up, ate, walked to the shop to get my car back, and drove home with the sunroof open. Then I sat on the back porch in a tank top, read, then fetched a piece of wood and the wood-working knives from the basement... and made a dirk. It's just the thing to stick in a boot. And, again, it is unintentionally very well-balanced. I just made it so it looked right! And lo, and behold! the balance is beautiful, and it spins quickly and smoothly. Apparently, I have found my gifting. Now if only I could make a living making wooden knives...

Now, of course, as the light fades, the cold returns. Not that the house even warmed up in the first place, so now, one again, I am chilly. This will I say for clouds: they keep things a little warmer!

I have found myself unexpectedly in desperate straits. Alack, for miscommunications! The result of this one is that I am broke. Quite literally. And have bills to pay this coming week, yet no money with which to pay them. What shall I do? Look for work. But how to find something that will get me money by Friday... Sigh. Thus far, God has provided. I trust He will continue to do so. In the meantime, I shall try not to fret, give thanks instead, and be responsible in looking for employment.

And enjoy the fact that my car's repair was cheap! Relatively, of course, but I knew that something was wrong with the transmission, so it could have been a LOT. But it was only leaking transmission fluid lines, and replacing those is FAR cheaper than rebuilding transmission! And now Emily is purring away like she used to, and it was strange how happy I was to get her back. I believe I am fond of my blue car.

Oh, but the sun felt good!

Apart.

The clouds are molten in the east.

After a stretch of rain, the wind broke the warm clouds apart in time for the sun to lay a few fingers on the remaining golden leaves before it sank down. Damp tree-fallen carpets cover sidewalks and backyards. Children and cars splash as they pass, and the earth rejoices.

November has rolled in. The month of final harvests and thankfulness drops between Halloween and December like a warm cookie. It is the time to revel in colour, dance in rain, walk in sun, eat soup, drink hot mulled cider, cozy on couches with friends, read, write, sing, pull out the sweaters, and give thanks. And give thanks. And give thanks.

I get to see some of my family this month. Not enough, but still good. This place is my home, but my family is not in it, leaving sibling and parent shaped gaps. Sometimes I think fondly of the days where you stayed in the town of your youth, visited your parents for Sunday dinner, watched your siblings grow up, fall in love, start families... A smaller world, perhaps, more than perhaps, but a coherent world. My world is still split, and always will be. This is normal now, for families to scatter and depend on technology to maintain contact. My family does not know what I look like right now - how my hair is cut, how well my skin is healing, what I'm wearing, that my ears are pierced for the first time in my life. And I do not know what they look like - how long my brother's beard is, how much weight my older sister has gained back, how many more wrinkles and grey hairs my parents have.

So I give thanks. I count my blessings. I rejoice in how much change has been worked in me these past 6 months. My digestion is improving! My skin is healing! I have gotten past my condescension towards dresses. I am growing and learning so much. I have good friends, who listen and advise and pray for me. I am not alone. I don't feel alone. I feel safe, for some reason, safe and secure. I am home - I am where I am supposed to be - and I am blessed. So I rejoice. It was warm and beautiful today. My brother comes tomorrow. A flock of birds just flew past the window, black wings against a clearing sky.

So I rejoice.