Friday, July 29, 2016

I CAN'T WAIT



Sometimes you need to start something new.
Sometimes you need a new home, a new kitchen, a new life.
(A new blog?)
And sometimes getting a new spatula is good enough.


I am currently looking for a new place to life for myself and Maggie the Pug.
So far, I am not having much luck...

I can't count the number of times some person from some-organisation-or-company-or-other told me: "Sorry, I can't help you. Now, if you had any children..!"
       
Fuck, that one gets me every time.....


But in the mean time I am going out, trying to make new friends, seeking comfort with old friends and trying out all sorts of things for the first time.
I just recently had my very first oyster! At 38!
(Wait, 
 what?? 38?!? When did that happen??   Never mind...)

My first oyster (bottom left one)

I liked it, all though I was expecting something spectacular, which it wasn't. But it wasn't gross, which I was also expecting. It was good.

So my very first ever oyster was quickly followed by my second ever oyster.

My second oyster

That really was a good night.
(That night may or may not have included some beer, wine and white port to sprinkle over the oysters (of course we would never fill the empty shells with the port! Never!))

It made me feel alive, silly as it may sound.

I am trying, really trying to find my bearings again.
Some days are easy, some, not so much.
Sometimes I feel like I'm drowning.
Drowning in sadness, drowning in anger, drowning in loneliness, drowning in all the things I have to do, alone.

Sometimes I am bored out of my mind.
Sometimes it feels like my life is paused (please, someone tell my ovaries; we're paused now, don't grow old), like I am waiting to press play again.
I really want to press play again, but it's difficult to find the right button when the ground under your feet is gone, or constantly moving.

At the moment I don't have a kitchen.
That's a problem.
At least, for me it is.
I can spend hours slicing and dicing to make that wonderful Thai salad that we used to love so much.
Or bake bread, days on end, trying to figure out how I can improve it, trying to create that "perfect" recipe.
But now I can't.
Now I just sit here, waiting for time to pass, for this moment to pass, so this pain will pass.
And I know it will pass.
I've been through worse.
The moment I realised that was weirdly wonderful.
It didn't make the pain go away, or even lessen it in any way, but it gave me faith in myself: I can handle this.
Even though I still lay awake crying some nights. 

Like last night.


I am looking at the future, my future.
Imagining that I have an apartment, that I am cooking in my kitchen, licking an old wooden spoon, burning my tongue because I am too impatient to wait and getting tongue splinters...


I can't wait!