Hitting a Brick Wall
Blogging has reintroduced me to writer’s block – I want to chat; but everything sounds like prissy drivel. I hit a brick wall again and again.
Trying to write, I find little to say. Yet, I try.
What is something positive, uplifting, funny, encouraging, or true that can I articulate? Days have passed, and I have spared you dear reader, the pain of reading so much silliness.
And then I hard-boiled some eggs for breakfast. (Yes the sensible eating plan continues – more on that later . . . maybe)
The method is supposed to be foolproof.
Cover eggs with water; bring to a boil; cut off heat; let them sit for 16 minutes.
Voila: Perfect eggs hard-boiled eggs!
No . . . one in five times, maybe the eggs cooperate. This morning they did not.
Peeling uncooperative hardboiled eggs – making a real hash of what was to have been an inspiring high protein breakfast was an inauspicious start to a glorious first day of June.
When inanimate objects can frustrate me to fury, it’s time for a time-out.
If a small thing has the power to make you angry, does that not indicate something about your size? ~Sydney J. Harris
Whew: describing my frustration contending with disobliging eggs is an unattractive character study.
So, let me shift my attention to
- My wonderful husband who insisted he was happy to have hard-boiled eggs, even mangled ones, and volunteered to peel his own. Who said chivalry is dead?
- The serene beauty of Eric Satie’s music works its magic, generating images of beautiful places . . . and undeserved blessings.
Aha. A better starting point to communicate.
(Yes, in the midst of terrifying times)
I am grateful you’ve stuck with me thus far, dear reader.
I am also grateful my Fitbit commended me several days for reaching my step-goal, which is several thousand short of where it should be.
Steps abounded because of several senior moments this week. I took oh so many steps walking into rooms and forgetting what I was after. (But, I made them decluttering! )
Howsomever, virtue has not been its own reward.
For all my careful food choices, no bells and whistles sound when I step on the scale. It has been descending so slo-o-o-o-w-ly!
The reward though is feeling better; less achiness; more energy, and no desire to eat bad stuff . . . for now. After all,
A balanced diet is a cookie in each hand. ~Barbara Johnson
I know: more virtue and resolve and discipline . . . are required according to the Mayo Clinic. (Healthy Weight Loss)
Pigs might fly first.
So, dear reader, I conclude and reward your indulgence with a Peg Bracken poem, as I recover from the week’s brick wall:
Butterflies taste with the soles of their feet!
I read it myself is a butterfly book
And thought, what a pleasure, whenever they eat,
For it’s bound to be sole food, whatever they cook.
Just think, could we do it, how nice it would be!
Imagine the difference such talent would make!
Shall we stroll through the meadow? Or hike to the sea?
Ah no, let us go for a walk on the cake!
On desolate dawns when I sulk in the shower
And my coffee is cold and my orange is sour,
I merely remember (and the morning is sweet)
Butterflies taste with the sole of their feet!
(The I Hate to Cook Almanack, page 123)
Closing thoughts, then, having recovered from hitting the brick wall:
“ . . . You owe it to us all to get on with what you’re good at.”—W.H. Auden (ibid., page 121)