November 15, 2011
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Depression Food
Depression food uses the staples. Flour. Egg. Milk. Salt. I think most of those things are luxuries in a depression. At least it doesn’t call for much butter (although I added some, not Paula Dean style, however.) Popovers are like depression food having a little party for itself. It’s simple, small, but it looks huge. It kinda blows up in the oven but the actual content… mostly air…
I’ve been resorting to compulsions. Weird routines (actually, no routines.) Pistachios. Baking. Avoidance. Weird fits of… stuff. It’s all very messy. What’s happening to me?
I made gluten-free brownies again for my kids (I’m thinking I’ll give them something every day of the week until break comes, or until I break.) I made experimental popovers. They were perfect. But I have nothing to do with the whole batch but to freeze them, and ultimately I will have to throw them out (I know my own habits. These are true depression popovers.
) I am planning to make spinach pinwheels for guests on Friday (I’m skipping the popovers bc it would seem like carb overload since I’ll probably make banana bread as well.) I just want to bake and cook and bake and cook but I totally lost my appetite. I don’t want to eat anything I make. I stopped coming home for lunch. These babies do not have the siren call loud enough for me to heed… especially if they have to be reheated. 
I think I’m losing my mind. I won’t let myself count down because 6 full days is still too long. I feel as though I’m holding my head above a rapidly rising water level and the water is starting to ripple into my nostrils. It doesn’t help that I saw that movie.. 127? Something? Hours. The one where the guy gets his arm caught in a boulder and he hacks it off with a dull blade (uh, I’d say spoiler alert, but I’m pretty sure it’s not a surprise.) He says it’s like his whole life was gearing towards that moment. Destiny. I don’t believe in that kind of life. I do believe, however, in Interventions. And Help. And… hope. And if that comes in the form of a dull blade… so be it? Is that how it’s supposed to work? Is cutting through that nerve bundle worth it? I guess you’d never know until you’ve tried. Analogies fail when you try to apply it to real life. Sometimes a rock is just a rock.
This year was supposed to be the Year of Yes, and instead it is turning into the Year of BLT. BareLy There. That’s right. Nothing to do with bacon. And the “ly” is so powerful it’s capitalized within the word. I think I’ve tripped over myself so many times, and I am starting to distrust every other decision I’ve been making… I feel as though I’m moving on, but without my arm, or leg, or something I always thought I needed. Does He know what He’s doing? Or am I just stupid?
I changed my layout. Just a little. Reflective of the mood. Goodbye yellow Gerbera. Hello, winter. In the meantime, I am hanging in. And waiting. And hoping.
Comments (1)
Come on! You can never have enough butter, ya’ll!
Jokes aside, hang in there. For every winter, there is a spring, right? One step forward, is another step closer to the prize. We just have to get out of that pit, or blizzard, using the winter theme. Even if it’s only small, I believe in you, and support you. Keep on keeping on!
ps-I like the changes to your layout. I think it is fitting since winter is knocking at the door. Very wintery!!! Nice!