On Sunday I made a creamy cauliflower soup. It involved pureeing and that frightened me. Plus, I had the divide the recipe in half, so there was math that also frightens me. It turned out delightful and silky and it is so good I’m a little sad that I didn’t have anyone to share it with. So now I’ve told you.
Whenever my niece Jaycie wants to chat the first line of her IM is always, always, always, “Hi. Can I talk to you?” The first 48 times she did that I always thought she was going to tell me something significant or important. “Can I talk to you” carries a sort of gravity she doesn’t realize yet. Earlier this summer, Sister #2 told Jaycie and Max that they should ask me if I’m available to chat, free, not busy, what have you. There was a lot of chatting this summer. Jaycie has interpreted that as “Can I talk to you.” It cracks me up.
Since I’m deep into my winter’s hibernation, I don’t have very much contact with people. At all. Aside from a few client calls, I haven’t spoken to another human being since Friday. This is not a complaint, merely a statement of facts. This is the first time I’ve been self-employed during the hibernation season. Usually, despite my hermitlike tendencies, I am forced to go to work. But not this year. It’s having a strange effect on my subconscious. My dreams that used to be populated by friends, family, and coworkers now star celebrities. It’s kind of weird. In the last week I’ve dreamed about Jodie Foster, Christian Slater, Bruce Springsteen, Mo’nique, and Jim Halpert from The Office.
One of my resolutions for this year is to keep track of all the words I look up in the dictionary. I give this another week before the novelty wears off. So far I’ve looked up: incredulity, gullible, incomprehensible, lexicographers, bated, delivered, fulgent, and ferocious. Also, I turned Bittersweetheart.com into a Tumblr blog. Another resolution (use that domain I’ve owned for 10 years for something) that will lose its shine by February.