Sunday, September 8, 2013
Depression. Recipe Included
Honest to motherfucking god, it sounds like the squirrels have a pecan-shelling factory set up above the shed. Pecans, whole and in pieces, as well as entire small branches, are hitting the ground like rain. Stand under that tree at your own risk.
It would be an awesome year for pecans if not for the squirrels. I wonder how pecan-fed squirrel would taste in about two weeks...
It's been a day.
I realized this morning that what I was feeling felt very much akin to depression. NOT anxiety, thank you sweet Baby Jesus. I was going to go to a rehearsal this afternoon of Arsenic and Old Lace that my friend Judy is directing, just to see folks and be a buttinsky but I just could not. I sent her a text message saying that I was having a day where I couldn't talk to anyone and so I wouldn't be there. I think she understood and I'm sure that my absence at her rehearsal was certainly not the worst thing that could have happened to her today.
I managed to get up out of the bed I had laid myself back into and swept the porches and the back deck, started some laundry, washed the few dishes. Then I forced myself to get dressed halfway properly and went into town, or at least the very edge of it, and went to the grocery store where I was at once soothed and perturbed by the bananas which seemed to be incredibly lined up and orderly. I bought some. I also bought some of those mums which look like daisies and I planted them in the rusty red wagon which sits by the kitchen door where the lemon balm has taken over. You can see the whole thing up there in that picture at the top. I have to admit that I wanted the chickens in the picture and so I threw some bread out for them. Now Elvis is standing on the kitchen porch, crowing to beat the band, demanding MORE BREAD.
Forget it, Elvis. Go find some tasty bugs. And quit pooping on my porch.
I've talked to Mr. Moon today and he sounds down too. I don't think he's enjoying gator hunting so much although he does love the rivers. He's mostly trying to make his Canadian friend happy because he's been such a good host to Mr. Moon, up there in Canada where they hunt huge bucks in the snow every other year or so. I don't think that my husband would have ever once thought about hunting alligators if his Canadian friend hadn't expressed his desire to do so.
And honestly, I think that Glen and I miss each other and that's not such a bad thing. I mean, it's good for us to be apart but it's nice to miss each other too. It's good for him to be out in the wilds where river and sky meet, the river a mirror to the sky and the trees, to eat manly food and think manly thoughts and use those parts of his brain that are ancient and honorable, the parts that his hunter ancestors used to feed the tribe, to ensure its survival.
That is some real shit, y'all. I believe it.
And it's good for me to be able to stay up late and read without worrying about keeping my man awake and to have only a tiny bit of laundry to do and not to have consider anyone's needs but my own.
But we're sort of used to having each other around, even if it's just to yell from one room to the next, "Are you talking to me? I can't hear you!"
And so forth.
I opened up my supposed memoir which I've been working on for about seven years which includes recipes and I finished a chapter and started another. It's sort of depressing although I try to incorporate humor into it like a good cook incorporates salt and spices. But I don't know. Maybe I need to do it. Get it out, get it down, talk a little bit about molestation and Girl Scout Campfire Stew. You know what I mean? I'm only up to about age thirteen and it's already a hundred and seventy-nine pages. My recipes so far have included not only Campfire Stew but also Breast Milk, Cream of Despair Soup, Pinto Beans and Cornbread, Salvation Turnips, and Aunt Dot's Spaghetti Which She Makes Because She Loves You And Thinks You Are Special. Not to mention A Dozen Fried Eggs For Your Husband While He Is Sexually Molesting Your Daughter While You Are Pregnant With His Child. There is also Variations On Bologna Sandwiches Which Are Pleasing To Fat Children.
Best seller possibilities, right?
What I am having for supper tonight is steak. In the style of my memoir, here is the recipe:
Realize You Haven't Eaten Red Meat In Quite Some Time And Are Depressed Steak
In small and delicate steps, get yourself ready to go to town to the grocery store. This means:
1. Getting out of bed.
2. Putting on a sort of bra-like garment which is soft and stretchy but which does, actually, qualify as a bra.
3. Putting on a dress which although is actually a dress, is more like a nightgown. Whatever. Who cares?
4. Slip earrings into your pierced ears. Nothing says "Going to town!" like wearing jewelry.
Go to the grocery store. Publix, if at all possible. Make your way to the Greenwise section and find a piece of steak that is the approximate size you need. Purchase it along with some bananas, chrysanthemums, portobella mushrooms and toilet paper which you need.
Bring everything home and put the cold things in the refrigerator, the other things in the cabinet or the basket beside the toilet, depending, and plant the mums.
About an hour before dinner, make a marinade of mojo crillo, garlic, Worcester sauce, olive oil, and balsamic vinegar. Put the meat and some of the sliced mushrooms into the marinade. Let sit for a little while.
When ready to cook, heat an iron skillet up to an astounding heat. Spray a little Olive Oil Pam in there. Slice up some onions and peppers and cook them in the skillet and at the end, add the drained mushrooms from the marinade.
When those are done to your liking, take them out of the pan and set them aside on a plate.
Bring the skillet up to smokin' hot. Throw in the meat. Let it cook on one side until it's just this side of being too brown. Turn it over. Repeat. Cut into it with a little knife to see if it's done enough in the center. If so, remove it from the skillet and put it on the plate with the vegetables. If it's not, cook a little more, perhaps adding some of the marinade juices to prevent burning.
Serve with any sort of starch you want. Suggestions: Baked potato, either white or sweet. Brown rice or white. Quinoa or couscous. A piece of toasted bread. Make yourself happy. Also, a salad of bitter greens, tomatoes, basil, cucumbers, pickled asparagus, balsamic vinegar, garlic, salt and pepper, and olive oil. Optional ingredients include avocado, cucumbers, grated carrot and/or artichoke hearts. If you have absolutely no problems with your cholesterol, crumble some blue cheese atop.
Eat it all like a beast. Remember that you are, indeed, an animal. Gnaw the bone. This is why dental floss was invented. Eat your salad. Beasts need salad as well as meat.
Well, there you go.
The squirrels are pulling a night shift. The chickens are putting themselves to bed.
I'm a little depressed. So what? Tomorrow will be another day. Another day, another mood, another mood, another meal.