5 January 2003: Ratatouille

Sunday morning.  As I predicted in my previous entry, I came out of my stupor and kicked in with all the New Year's resolutions and new habits on January 3rd.  One of the new resolutions (formed on the evening of the 2nd, in a conversation with Bonkydog about the cultivation of good habits) is to write every day, even if it's just a little.  Writing done for job or school counts only if it is interesting and creatively satisfying to me (the writing I do for my job right now isn't; the papers I wrote for school last year were).  Entries in this journal count, since this is a satisfying creative project.

My writing for the 3rd was a brief introduction to the basic concepts of the Kabbalistic Tree of Life, written for the Moot Zoo so that my fellow Zoosters would know what I was talking about when I made reference to those concepts.  After writing it, I cleaned it up a little and posted it in the Notes section of this site, as I've done with other short essays written for the Moot Zoo, and will continue to do.  Watch the Notes section in the coming months for more writings on the Tree of Life, the Tarot, and who-knows-what-else.

With me, Geminica, Stagewalker, and Lexicat all actively maintaining our journals now (and each one of us being a great fan of the journals of the other three), I found myself, during the first days of the year, on the edge of my seat waiting for everyone's first entries of the year, and the four different perspectives on the one time of the year that all four of us are in the same room.

Moonspice mentioned at the party that other friends of hers who have websites and online journals have told her that she ought to have one, but that her life is too quiet and routine to write about and that she doesn't have anything to say.  My life is at least as quiet and routine as hers (more so, since, lanky hobbit that I am, I actively shun travel for most of the year, and passionately hate "going away for the weekend"), and I don't have anything to say either, and I'm less articulate than her about saying it.  So I'm taking her broaching of the subject as a license to start nagging her to start a journal.  Everyone who knows her is invited to help.

At the New Year's party, Da Rong Jo made Avocado Margaritas.  They're as horrible as they sound, but better.  They're especially sacred, because they involve both avocados and blenders.

I'm cooking again, thanks to Dragon Lady's influence.  Here are Nickykaa's Rules of Romantic Pampering:

1. Everyone has one or two things that make them feel especially loved.

2. Find out at least one of the things that makes your partner feel loved.

3. The best way to find out is to just straight up ask.

4. Once you've found the thing out, do it sometimes.

5. It bodes well for a relationship if the things that make your partner feel loved are things that you like to do.

6. Avoid relationships where the things that make your partner feel especially loved are things that you don't like to do.

I didn't have to ask Dragon Lady what made her feel loved, because she's got enough relationship savvy and communication skill that she up and told me before I got around to asking.  She loves to be cooked for.  This is a wonderful thing, because I love to cook for people.  I don't often have time, but with something like this it's not frequency that counts, so much as the quality of attention and loving intent when it does happen.  And I'm an attentive and loving cook, especially when I'm cooking for someone I love. 

So yesterday evening I did my first really major cooking project in years, a sausage ratatouille, and darned if it wasn't the best thing I've cooked yet.  It was pretty time-and-labor intensive, but I liked it better than anything I've had in a restaurant in a while, and, more importantly, she liked it.

This morning, I made us a salmon omlette.  Yum.

Someday my friends and I will create a home for ourselves, a place for all of us who want to be there.  Our Rivendell.  When I imagine it, the most vivid part of the dream is the meals we will cook together.  And yes, Lexicat, for you I'm willing to make them vegan.

Deep in my heart
There's a house
That can hold
Just about all of you...

- T. Rex