Tuesday, March 27, 2012
Musings From a Cluttered Life: Stockpiling Ravioli and Dreaming of the Black Sea
Musings From a Cluttered Life: Stockpiling Ravioli and Dreaming of the Black Sea: I decided to start all new blog posts at about six o'clock in the evening. That way, I can tell my family that I'm busy writing important st...
Stockpiling Ravioli and Dreaming of the Black Sea
I decided to start all new blog posts at about six o'clock in the evening. That way, I can tell my family that I'm busy writing important stuff and cannot possibly stop to cook dinner.
The strategy has advantages.
First, I get out of dinner duty, which recently became an impossible task. Think about it. How does one prepare a meal that appeals to both a husband-who-happens-to-have-cancer-and-no-appetite and a 19-year old who will eat about three foods, none of which offer any nutrition.
Thankfully, the pantry is well-stocked these days with cans of Chef Boyardee ravioli. Previously considered a repulsive option by this foodie, canned ravioli is now my salvation. My two guys love the stuff, and as long as I keep some lettuce in the fridge for salad, I have minimally fulfilled my obligation as the family nutritional fairy.
Another advantage to my six o'clock blogging strategy is that I might actually sit down and write. Drive-by blogging serves no one well. Sort of like fast food. Quick bites, no substance. Too many nights go by in which I find myself craving the keyboard but chained to the kitchen. Not just cooking, but putting up leftovers and washing piles of dishes. I did not train my boys right. Not at all.
Know that I began my six o'clock blogging schedule this evening. Thirty seconds into my keyboard pecking, here comes Big Man, insisting that I go out on the deck to look at the first yellow finch of the season. By the time I get out there, the bird has flown to Tennessee. Returning to the blog, I'm quickly pulled away because it is important to the Big Man that I hear his opinion on the current case before the Supreme Court. This urgent matter cannot possibly wait.
Finally back at the keyboard, Little Man texts me from afar and says he needs two turkey sandwiches assembled ASAP because he is doing a drive-by before heading to the mall to spend the rest of my bank funds on clothes. I inform Little Man that I'm busy writing important stuff and can't possibly stop to feed him. However, there is plenty of ravioli in the pantry that he can heat in the microwave. And clean lettuce for a salad, to boot.
This news was not well-received.
I will continue with my new strategy for a few more evenings. Like Pavlov's dogs, my two guys will surely respond to my behavior change techniques. Eons ago, I was well-versed in all aspects of behavior modification. A manipulative, denigrating practice? Well, yes, but who cares when writing important stuff is at stake.
The real question tonight is How are my Russian friends? (Как мои русские друзья?) I miss your visits. And, by the way, you visit my blog, but so far it is a one way conversation. (Вы посетите мой блог, но до сих пор это один из способов разговор.). Talk to me, please! (Поговори со мной, пожалуйста!).
Big Man and I have thought about taking a vacation. It's important to do so sooner than later, as the side effects of his chemotherapy become more severe over time. I've decided we should visit a birch forest or a barley field in Russia! Oh, to experience the Trans-Siberian Railway, a cruise along the Volga River, a seaside resort along the Black Sea.
Geopolitics mean nothing to me, particularly since I became the wife of a good man with Stage IV cancer. But even before the cancer monster, I found renewal by experiencing different cultures, climates, and cuisine. And renewal is something I need right now.
The emergence of Spring in Atlanta has brought me hope. Indeed, I wrote about it in this week's Patch column: http://woodstock.patch.com/articles/one-fine-spring-day. But given my level of stress and Big Man's increasingly dependent behavior, I'd say it is time for a change of scenery, if only for a few days.
Given time and budgets, our scenery change will most likely occur about 25 miles away for an overnight with a romantic meal at the local Cracker Barrel restaurant. But I can still dream of the Black Sea, no?
After all, dreams enable me to write about the important stuff.
[Disclaimer: This is a photo from the south of Spain, but the scenery is similar to a picture I once saw of the Black Sea coast in summer. Send me a better photo if you have one.]
The strategy has advantages.
First, I get out of dinner duty, which recently became an impossible task. Think about it. How does one prepare a meal that appeals to both a husband-who-happens-to-have-cancer-and-no-appetite and a 19-year old who will eat about three foods, none of which offer any nutrition.
Thankfully, the pantry is well-stocked these days with cans of Chef Boyardee ravioli. Previously considered a repulsive option by this foodie, canned ravioli is now my salvation. My two guys love the stuff, and as long as I keep some lettuce in the fridge for salad, I have minimally fulfilled my obligation as the family nutritional fairy.
Another advantage to my six o'clock blogging strategy is that I might actually sit down and write. Drive-by blogging serves no one well. Sort of like fast food. Quick bites, no substance. Too many nights go by in which I find myself craving the keyboard but chained to the kitchen. Not just cooking, but putting up leftovers and washing piles of dishes. I did not train my boys right. Not at all.
Know that I began my six o'clock blogging schedule this evening. Thirty seconds into my keyboard pecking, here comes Big Man, insisting that I go out on the deck to look at the first yellow finch of the season. By the time I get out there, the bird has flown to Tennessee. Returning to the blog, I'm quickly pulled away because it is important to the Big Man that I hear his opinion on the current case before the Supreme Court. This urgent matter cannot possibly wait.
Finally back at the keyboard, Little Man texts me from afar and says he needs two turkey sandwiches assembled ASAP because he is doing a drive-by before heading to the mall to spend the rest of my bank funds on clothes. I inform Little Man that I'm busy writing important stuff and can't possibly stop to feed him. However, there is plenty of ravioli in the pantry that he can heat in the microwave. And clean lettuce for a salad, to boot.
This news was not well-received.
I will continue with my new strategy for a few more evenings. Like Pavlov's dogs, my two guys will surely respond to my behavior change techniques. Eons ago, I was well-versed in all aspects of behavior modification. A manipulative, denigrating practice? Well, yes, but who cares when writing important stuff is at stake.
The real question tonight is How are my Russian friends? (Как мои русские друзья?) I miss your visits. And, by the way, you visit my blog, but so far it is a one way conversation. (Вы посетите мой блог, но до сих пор это один из способов разговор.). Talk to me, please! (Поговори со мной, пожалуйста!).
Big Man and I have thought about taking a vacation. It's important to do so sooner than later, as the side effects of his chemotherapy become more severe over time. I've decided we should visit a birch forest or a barley field in Russia! Oh, to experience the Trans-Siberian Railway, a cruise along the Volga River, a seaside resort along the Black Sea. Geopolitics mean nothing to me, particularly since I became the wife of a good man with Stage IV cancer. But even before the cancer monster, I found renewal by experiencing different cultures, climates, and cuisine. And renewal is something I need right now.
The emergence of Spring in Atlanta has brought me hope. Indeed, I wrote about it in this week's Patch column: http://woodstock.patch.com/articles/one-fine-spring-day. But given my level of stress and Big Man's increasingly dependent behavior, I'd say it is time for a change of scenery, if only for a few days.
Given time and budgets, our scenery change will most likely occur about 25 miles away for an overnight with a romantic meal at the local Cracker Barrel restaurant. But I can still dream of the Black Sea, no?
After all, dreams enable me to write about the important stuff.
[Disclaimer: This is a photo from the south of Spain, but the scenery is similar to a picture I once saw of the Black Sea coast in summer. Send me a better photo if you have one.]
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)