I've been on a baking/cooking jag again. Yesterday alone I made beef stew, granola bars, and homemade biscuits. In the past week, I've also made zucchini bread, pizza, roast chicken, chocolate oil cake with super fudgy frosting, and snack mix.
Hubs thanked me for all the cooking I've been doing. I told him I wasn't cooking, I was sublimating - wherein you 'divert the energy associated with (an unacceptable impulse or drive) into an acceptable activity'. (I also told him that's what he gets for marrying a former psych major, a woman who uses words like 'sublimate'.)
Basically, when I feel like there isn't anything I can control, I bake instead of running through the streets naked. Screaming. And on fire. You know, or choking the shit out of a slew of idiots who desperately deserve it. Or drinking. Who knew the world would turn into such a raging shitball after I quit drinking?
Of course, alcohol doesn't solve the problems, it just mutes them for a while. And while doing so, it causes a whole range of other problems. So, no, I won't go back to drinking. Occasionally, I just long for the days of utterly blanking out when things got shitty.
Hubs has suggested that perhaps I should open my own bakery. Umm, no. Oh, I've thought about it. Then I think about the long days, the slim margins, the overwhelming number of government officials who would be all up in my bidness, and all the joy goes out of the idea. Also, I remember the time my mom worked in a doughnut shop and how much she hated it. The smell of deep-frying still gives her flashbacks, I think.
Nah, baking is my outlet. Why ruin that? Sure, it'd be cool to have someone pay me for the effort, but like writing, I don't see that happening in any major way. I bake stuff. If I have extra, I give it away. Hubs eats most of it. Lucky for him, he has the metabolism to eat it and not blow up like a fat-filled balloon. If I ate as much of my baked goods as he does, I guaran-damn-tee that I would be HUGE.
So, if you don't see me on the news after having snapped and taken out 2/3rds of DC, thank the cakes, the breads, the rolls, the biscuits, the pizzas, the stews, the soups, etc. (Not pies. I'm bad at pie. Darn it.)
Hey. I hear you! I've been searching ways to recall the Canadian Prime Minister. And you know I am totally NOT a Canuck. Still.
ReplyDeleteI gave myself a haircut Sunday. I took it really short so I can't pull it and it won't be in my eyes or sticking straight up after sleeping. Okay, it does, but I can slick it down with water.
What was the question? Oh, yeah, Hair on fire. Running naked. Nuking DC. There's a few people I'd warn first. And since the CIA is probably montoring me I will state unequivocally that both of us write FICTION and we are only brainstorming ideas for a new thriller we're thinking of collaborating on. Right? That's my story and I'm sticking to it.
Baking. I haven't made the Cool Whip snickerdoodles in awhile. LG keeps raiding the the bakery section of Braums. Since LG is diabetic and I'm fat, I don't bake much at all anymore. Heck, with just the two of us, I don't seriously cook anymore. I admire you for doing so!
Keep up the good work. Keep sublimating. Oh, I have a great recipe for pie crust but I just buy the Pillsbury premade, It works great. Just sayin'...