Sunday afternoon in the kitchen

I find the act of cooking or baking to be soothing: the motions associated with being in the kitchen - measuring, mixing, chopping, stirring - are familiar and timeless, and whether I'm following a recipe or making it up as I go, being in the kitchen generally grounds and centers me.

C and I often cook together, moving around our kitchen in a pattern of not-exactly-choreographed dance steps. There is the occasional toe being stepped on or fumble as we reach for the same knife or wooden spoon, but, for the most part, our rhythms are completely in sync and we twirl around one another adding ingredients to whichever dish we are making and end up with something that we are both equally proud (or not proud) of and take pleasure in eating meals that we have prepared together. Food just tastes better when it's made with a little extra love, as cliche as that may be.

I have gotten comfortable with being half of the cooks in our kitchen - the routine of having music on and all the lights turned up and keeping track of my partner is familiar to me. Rarely am I in the kitchen alone these days; even if I'm baking, my husband is there, not quite hovering, but handing me ingredients and washing my measuring cups, a presence that I feel even if I'm the only one holding a mixer.

Yesterday afternoon, I found myself in the kitchen alone for the first time in a while. C had gone to run some errands. We were making French Onion soup for dinner, and I had several snacks to prep for book club. My darling husband sliced a mountain of onions for me before he left, but I was on duty to babysit the onions as they cooked low and slow for over an hour, turning into melty slivers of deliciousness that we would make into soup. While stirring occasionally with one hand, I did prep work for the rest of my recipes: softening cream cheese, cracking eggs, opening cans.

I stood in my kitchen in my bare feet, sunlight streaming in and providing enough light that I didn't have to flip any switches, the TV on softly in the background. I worked methodically to make my way down the list of foods. There is something chaotically calming about having four different items cooking at once, each needing its own time and attention, but each playing nicely with the rest so that one pan goes into the oven as the other comes out and one pot simmers gently while the other gets stirred. Other than the TV, there was no chatter - no talking with C, no laughing and joking as we went through the motions, like usual. Just me and my thoughts and the sounds of cooking: whirring, humming, sizzling, boiling.

The time passed so quickly, and yet almost stood still - those moments in my kitchen alone were precious, a little chunk of time where nothing existed but me and the ingredients and the utensils. I felt myself recharging as I moved from step to step, independently responsible for each thing I created. I love to share the joy of cooking with C, but I needed those moments alone, too, much more than I realized. I was happy when I finally heard the garage door opening and C came in with his arms full of bags to find me standing among almost-completed dishes. The smells emanating from my pots were like arms reaching for him: welcome, come in, see what's I've made. I walked him through the recipes and showed him my work, proud of the things I'd created and the successes I'd had. He turned on the music and I turned on the lights and together we worked on the soup - I'd gotten the onions done perfectly, but there were more ingredients needed before it would be finished. We fell into that familiar routine with ease.

At the end of the evening, when the snacks were packed away for the next night and the dishes had been washed, we ate steaming bowls of soup and grilled cheese sandwiches that we both had worked on making and put effort into making just right. It was a perfect combination of my own, personal time and my favorite way to spend time with my husband, and the results were delicious.

beautiful roasted garlic for hummus

a lovely pair... just like C & I ;)

and then it was April.

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T. S. Eliot began his famous poem, “The Waste Land,” with the line “April is the cruelest month” - and for most of my life, I had no reason to believe him. But five years ago, everything changed. And I’ve been thinking that exact same line ever since.

April is the hardest month of the year for me - and if I’m not careful, it sneaks up on me without warning, bringing all of its emotions and memories with it. It catches me off guard, knocks me off balance, and jostles me until I almost fall over. I have to be prepared for April.

Five years ago, in April, I was locked in a classroom while the worst school shooting in American history took place on the campus that I called home. My life would never be the same.

One year ago, in April, my best friend’s mother unexpectedly passed away, changing her life forever, and mine, too, in a number of ways. It has been a hard year for my friend, and for me, as someone who cares about her.

This year, in April, my grandfather will be interred at Arlington National Cemetery, after passing away last November. I’m sure that every year in April, I will also think of him.

This time of year always provides an unsettling juxtaposition for me. As spring rolls in and flowers are blooming and birds are singing, there is so much happiness and excitement about the changing seasons. However, there is also a sadness and a heaviness that I feel as I remember the things that have happened in the last few years. April brings some of the prettiest days of the year in Virginia, days where the sun is warm and bright, the grass and trees are green, flowers are vibrantly blooming, and it always seems that sometimes the most beautiful days bring back the sharpest memories.

This year, I’m going to try to write my way through April, and see how it helps. I don’t intend to become Susie Sadness or Debbie Downer, but I do want to be real - and really, April is rough. I used to be really good at finding the words to say how I felt or what I was thinking, so it’s time that I try that again. Whatever gets written over the next month or so will truly be a picture of who I am, and where I’ve been. I'm prepared for plenty of good things to happen in April, too - and that will be documented, as well.

April arrives, every year, whether I like it or not. Time just keeps turning. And life goes on.

Ringing in the New Year

I fully intend to start an “Index Card Journal” because that idea is just so cute and easy (and appealing to someone like myself who has the attention span of a gnat, so writing one sentence per day is about all I can handle). However, since it is currently Jan 3, and I have neither the journal nor the supplies for the journal, just the idea of the journal, I shall document (for posterity) what has occurred so far in 2012. Let’s see…

Jan 1 – Hangover. Terrible hangover. Neither shocking or uncommon, but what can ya do. We threw a NYE party, and hung out with the friends who were still around for much of the day on New Year’s Day. After an epic clean-up session (surprisingly little mess considering the size of the party, but still enough mess that it was making me highly uncomfortable), Charlie and I trekked to Wegmans for some of their $6 (or $8, in my case) dinners and hi-jacking The Pacific from my parents. Got home, and immediately began a marathon session of the DVDs. So good! We watched eight of them back to back (and stayed up til 2 AM!). 

Jan 2 – Slept til 11, then watched the last two episodes of The Pacific. Cannot say enough good things about that series – it is absolutely beautiful and heartbreaking and scary and amazing. I can’t imagine living during a time of war like WWII was – the war of the 2000s was so different from that of the 1940s. I got my hair cut and colored (and absolutely love it – I’ve been itching to go back to basic brown, and Stephanie the hair fairy did exactly what I was hoping for) and then came home and made a pot of chili. Watched some football and flipped channels for a while, then headed to bed early.

Jan 3 – Back to work for the first time in 2012 (boo!). Tonight is the Sugar Bowl, and the Hokies are playing Michigan. We’re headed to Springfield to watch (part of) the game with Michelle & Joe. Let’s Geaux Tech!

So there we have it. Proof that the first three days of 2012 were not very exciting, but were good days nonetheless. My 25^th birthday is five days away, and I intend to make my 25^th year one of the best yet!