Saturday, August 14, 2010

Some things never change

You ever feel like you have so much to say yet nothing at all at the same time? That's where I am. I take photos and say that I'll write a post but then I have nothing. So let's see if I can make sense of images from last weekend.

The last time I grilled arrachera, I followed the traditional marinating procedures. Now I love cumin as much as the next girl but it had way too much cumin for my taste. Sheesh. Never thought I would say that. This time around I wanted cleaner flavors. So I stuck with salt, pepper, garlic, lime juice and olive oil. Much more the experience I sought. After tasting the cooked meat, I wrapped it up and deposited it into the freezer.

While the meat was marinating, I took another stab at potato salad. I have always thought that I was following my real mom's recipe in the past but it turns out, I wasn't. I knew in the past I had not used nearly enough boiled eggs and mustard. But the real secret is the pickle relish. I grew up believing that Yankees use dill while Southerners use sweet. Turns out that Mom uses a combination of both. And since she makes the best potato salad in the world, I have to believe in her choice. I've barely put a dent in the bowl.

While I was in the store picking up potatoes and celery for the potato salad, I thought that I may as well pick up some peaches for a cobbler. I made it in a smaller pan this time so the crust to filling ratio was more to my liking. I finally tasted it today.

Here's the thing. I like to cook. And in the past I rarely ate it. I woke up last Sunday knowing that I had gained a few of the pounds that I had lost back and wanted to be rid of them once more -- and then some. I then proceeded to cook a bunch of stuff guaranteed to put more pounds on my ass. Why? Because cooking relaxes me. It also helps me to forget that I really don't have anything better to do -- except clean.

Mostly I haven't posted because I've been dealing with a lot of emotions which I have struggled to put into words. Now I think I have some ideas.

I am once more fighting my nomadic soul. There is a voice in my head that is screaming, "Run. Pack up and move away," but I know that I can't right now. Instead once a week I look at real estate listings.

I keep telling myself that I need four more years. Hopefully by then I will be in a position to move once more. Hopefully back to Berkeley. I love that I own my condo; I am just not enamored with the location. Then again maybe the development across the street will finally happen. If so, that could change my opinion completely.

Then there is my job. I like what I do. And I'm really good at it. This is now the longest I have been at any one place as far as work is concerned. Usually I left because I felt like I had plateaued. See? More of the nomadic soul. I'm pretty much at that place once more but I really want to give stability a try. And I guess it could be a lot more bearable except for the one thing I just realized today. This is the first job at which I do not socialize with my coworkers on a regular basis. In many ways I have always buried myself in my work but because there was also a social aspect to it all, I never really minded.

Bottom line is what I guess I am feeling is loss. I feel like I'm replaying every time I have had someone close to me die. Except this time someone hasn't died. And so I have had to spend the past couple of weeks defending my position to others. And I feel tired. But what I really want is something different.


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