I'm feeling so many emotions right now. I can't quite parse them. Or articulate them
My little open secret writing project has been discovered. Which is quite all right with me. And Jackie left a very nice comment on the old blog. (If you're reading Jackie, thank you! And. Excellent timing!) A nice antidote to the snarky comment I mentioned the other day.
Really wonderful people have been leaving me encouraging comments all along but I couldn't take them in. I don't even know why.
I'm not impressed with how much I've been able to write here the last two months but it's more writing than I've done in the last two years.
I am not at all surprised to discover how much of my blogging was tied to relationships. I am moved in some deep and overwhelming way when I read the words: I miss your writing.
I'm just feeling ...
I'm just feeling.

There was a cartoon in a New Yorker in which a beatnik looking dude is telling someone that all you need to do to be a writer is gather your internal angst and write a diet cookbook. I'm paraphrasing but that was the drift.

I carry breakfast and lunch to work. I get home too late for dinner. Sometimes I eat toast. Breakfast is some kind of fruit and some muffin, bagel, scone type thing. Summer fruit is still around (praise the lord) and I am in peach, nectarine, plum, cherry, berry heaven. Can NOT get enough. Debbie's been bringing me crazy amounts of stuff from the farmers market. She seems to have a crush on the tomato vendor because they keep piling up in my refrigerator. So this week I made concasse out of them and mixed it up with penne and parm.

Well. It wasn't really concasse. Really concasse is peeled and seeded. I didn't peel and seed for two reasons.

1. It's a pain in the butt.

2. I don't mind peels and seeds.

It is true that peeling and seeding makes things smoother in both texture and flavor. Peels and seeds have an acidic quality. But, again, I'm OK with that. I wouldn't be if I were going to serve someone else. If I'd been making lunch for anyone else I would have roasted the tomatoes, peeled and seeded and chopped. I'd have used olive oil and garlic and fresh basil instead of just piling them in a pan and cooking them down. I've been eating them all week and I am OVER THEM.

This is not to say that I'm not careful when I cook for myself. I am. But these days it's all I can do to assemble precooked things. Last week I ate sausage sandwiches because I defrosted the refrigerator and didn't want to refreeze them. I get so bored when I eat the same thing everyday.

Debbie also brings me piles of lemon cucumbers, which I've been eating in salads with red bell peepers, or beets.

And I'm on a tapioca kick.

And almonds. I eat almonds every day.

I guess I could write a non diet non cook book.

I'm just so Po Mo.

When A and I were having dinner she ran into a friend. When she introduced me she said I was a writer. It's dopey to argue about stuff like that but I blanched internally. I don't think you're a writer unless you write. And I'm having trouble writing email.
Shortly after that I was talking to K about some ideas for moving the site and he mentioned blogger. And. So. Then. I decided to write here on the blog no one reads to see if I could build up some writing muscle. I'm not impressed with how I'm doing.
And. Then. I got an email notification from YACCS. Someone had left a comment on an old post. They were letting me know that I had used every day when I meant everyday. Or maybe it was the other way around.
Ah yes. I remember this about blogging. Random person stops by and feels the need to take a jab. I'm very glad to know when to use every day and when to use everyday. It has confused me. It's the flat tone in the comment that makes it feel like a jab. Comments like that rarely come from another blogger. Sometimes they do. I remember a fellow blogger commenting on my miss use of it's. I do know when to use it's and its but I space out. I am flawed. Deeply flawed. The tone was different. Just a friendly reminder. Not a jab.
Most of my experience with blogging has been good. The part that's bad right now is ... that I don't seem to have something essential. Inspiration? Stamina? Time?
And. Yet. I want to keep trying.
I keep editing this .
I keep finding small mistakes.
Sigh.