blargh.

the upside of being consistently disappointed by you is that at least i always know what to expect.

chop chop.

once upon a time, i used to cook. i used to cook really quite well, actually. (not as well as biscuit, of course, but pretty well). it's a pastime that fell out of favor over the years, felled by eating disorders; antipathy towards cooking for one; getting involved with someone who was not only a better cook than i, but who couldn't eat anything i know how to make because it would MAKE HIM DIE.

so, you know. not so much in the way of cooking.

until recently.

i'm not sure what it is, exactly, but i seem to be rediscovering my inner domestic goddess. i've been making thai curries! stir-fries! cookie recipes from thin air! lemon chicken (and if you recall the tirade about my fear of meat, you will know what an achievement that is)! it's terrifying! and yet awesome! and requires many exclamation points!

the major problem i face now is that i lack the appropriate equipment to really go to town with the cooking: specifically, knives. my knives suck. the only one i own that has even the vaguest semblance of usefulness is a 3-inch paring knife that tends to liberate itself from its handle. startling, to say the least, when you are trying to eviscerate a stubborn piece of ginger. i've recently had the opportunity to test drive a few nice knives (7-inch santoku knife, i love you!), and it has left me convinced of one intractable fact: it pays to have the right toys--i don't know the last time you tried to cut a piece of chicken with a shitty knife, but i'll tell you: NOT FUN.

this brings me to the other hole in my cooking arsenal: recipes. my beloved recipe book has gone missing. i should be able to cobble most of it back together (my awesome recipe for carrot cake, however, is lost to the ages), but starting that project got me thinking: it might be time to cast the net beyond my family! so i appeal to you: what are your favorite recipes? and are you willing to share? if so, send 'em to shivery *at* gmail *dot*com. help a lapsed domestic goddess out!

rock. hard place. here.

why why why why WHY do you insist on making this so hard?

i mean...hasn't it been hard enough already? don't you feel that too?

just...there is nothing left to be gained by slowing down now. please just let me go.

pealing like bells.

it comes as a surprise to some when i say that i have a laugh that can stop foot traffic; this is because it rarely comes out to play. my typical laugh is a far smaller affair--quiet and polite, occasionally bordering on the inaudible. certainly a far cry from the open-bell sound that peals from my throat when i am thoroughly delighted. that laugh is loud authoritative; that laugh wears steel-toed combat boots and loves dark irises. that laugh loves a good beer and dancing until she's too tired to move.

that laugh is also, unsurprisingly, an elusive creature. particularly of late. as i edge ever closer to the finish of what rapidly escalated into a rather unsavory epoch, i've grown more and more austere. mainly, i'm sure you'll be shocked to know, because i've my nerves have been absolutely ripped to shreds. laughter has not been high on the agenda.

which made it all the more lovely when on this morning's train, i found myself cackling like a banshee: head thrown back, throat open, voice in full glow. attracting looks from my fellow commuters that ranged from disgusted to startled.

we draw closer to the end. i can only hope this heralds the return of my sense of humor, becuase it felt exquisite to laugh like that.