Culinary Procrastination

“Instead of studying Locke,– I go make an apple pie, or study Joy of Cooking, reading it like a rare novel.”  -Sylvia Plath

Setting the irony of this topic and her suicide aside, I recently finished an article about the poetess, Sylvia Plath, and her fondness of cooking, baking and entertaining.  The article noted that she avoided the dreary task of creating her College lesson plans by determinedly mixing up culinary concoctions in the kitchen.  She sidestepped her unbearable writers block and evaded her baneful writing desk through her constant stirring and frying and mincing.

“For Sylvia Plath, baking was a form of therapy.”  I understand the therapy of culinary avoidance. The day a critical deadline looms is always the precise instance I have to, without a moment’s interruption, test that cookie recipe that’s been lingering in my recipe box for the last five years.  Couldn’t it wait until a more appropriate time?  No, it must be baked – and it must be baked now.  The work, the project, the stress-inducing deadline can wait.  We must withdraw to the kitchen for the genuine “work”.

Tonight, for example, I had four hours of projects that needed finishing.  Procrastinating all week, I knew that I’d have plenty of weekend time for completion. But then…I realized…at about 4:30 this afternoon…that my freezer was harboring the Alaskan halibut a friend had caught months before.  It must be lonely and languishing inside the sub zero after all this time.  I could almost hear it through the stainless steel door – it must be released into the culinary daylight.   So, I placed the frozen block of halibut in water for thawing, hurried to the grocery store (note – Superbowl Sunday is a great time for grocery shopping), wrestled the Cuisinart down from its dusty pantry shelf, preheated the oven and proceeded to create:

Sylvia’s roasted halibut with blood-orange scented yams and salsa verde. My assignments can wait until Monday.

Halibut

Balanced Meal and Mind

After a bout of melancholy that lasted through the weekend and into the new week, I’m feeling okay today (finally by Thursday!).

I think my therapist was a little concerned about how emotionally beaten up I seemed during my visit on Monday.  Heck, I was concerned.  Shouldn’t these drugs have kicked in 100% by now?  Shouldn’t I be walking on sunshine?  Frankly, I’m tired of talking and thinking and dreaming about him.  He’s gone.  I’ve got to get over it and move on with my fabulous life.

I did a little Google research today and I’m starting to wonder if part of this depression isn’t caused by my new limited, limited eating habits.

For me, food has always meant Love and Passion. I feed those I care about.  When I was dating him, eating was our favorite thing to do.  When he left, I lost all interest in food.  I LOVED food – the taste, the texture, the scent.  These days, I drive around aimlessly during lunch just trying to find something to eat that will stop the gnawing in my gut.  Nothing seems to excite me.  It could all be sawdust as much as I care what goes in my mouth.

The upside – and, yes, this IS an upside, I’ve lost 19.5 pounds over the last 3 months.  Just a half-pound to go and I’m done. Down 20 pounds.  I’m in a size 2 – and I’m happy about that, at least.  The body looks good – took a new photo for the online dating site:

The downside – the butt is flat – I just bought a bootie busting DVD so I can find my butt again. I need a butt for my new skinny jeans, right?

But, anyway,  I’ve been eating like crap and I’ve been feeling like crap, so today I had a little something with my breakfast coffee, had my mid-morning chai, ate a lunch with a bit more carbs and I’ve got plans for a good, healthy dinner.

I’m feeling better today – not laughing, light-hearted, Holly Golightly, but I’m also not ready to break into tears at the slightest provocation – or as soon as the therapist’s door closes.  Maybe it’s as simple as starting to eat again.

Days since I’ve contacted my ex:  57

Days since I’ve searched for my ex: 9 (although I did drive by some of his lunch haunts yesterday, but I didn’t stalk and I didn’t go inside)

What I’m grateful for:  Carbs

Both Feet

My therapist said something very insightful the other day (I promise, not all my posts are going to start with that sentence now).   She said that perhaps this breakup has affected me so strongly because, for once, I had both feet in the game.

Throughout my serious relationships, I’ve always felt like I’ve had one foot out the door (yes, this is also a line from High Fidelity).  I don’t think I’ve ever been fully committed.  I’ve always been looking for something better or always focusing on the reasons my relationship wouldn’t work.  This was the first time I was fully committed.  I saw an end to my dating life – I saw us growing old together – I had both feet pointed towards the future with him by my side.  I adored his quirks – yes, we had differences, but I saw them as challenges we would work through together.

We all know now that he didn’t feel the same. I can’t control that, no matter how much I wish I could.

But now I know –  I am able to commit.  When the right one comes along (and god let’s hope it’s not another 5-7 years, as is typical), I can commit myself to him.  I’ve learned how to put both feet in the game.  Right now, I can’t imagine finding another person like him, but someday, it is possible.

Days since I’ve contacted my ex:  52 days

Days since I’ve searched for my ex:  4 days

What I am grateful for:  That I had the courage to see a shrink and get meds that I obviously need right now.