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weekend and other thoughts
Jul. 29th, 2002 11:31 amLet's see...Saturday I finally hauled myself out of bed at 10:30, showered, cleaned my room, and went to the mall to buy new pillows. Came back, did laundry, worked on cross stitch, did more laundry, had a minor panic fit because the dryer didn't seem to be working (it was set on Low instead of Normal. Problem solved). So passeth a productive but not terribly exciting Saturday.
Sunday I woke up the first time at 10:30. Apparently I need more sleep. Put away laundry, did dishes, went to the grocery store, came home and made apricot and raisin scones. For some reason every time I make scones, the dough gets stickier. I think I left the equivalent of at least one scone stuck to the bowl, the counter and me (the recipe says knead the dough a little. Yeah, right. I had to add HUGE amounts of flour to be able to knead it at all.) At least they came out well. They seem to be disappearing fast.
Some day I should try to convince myself that I really can cook when I feel like it. I just don't feel like it all that often, so I don't get very much practice, and cooking for company makes me nervous.
I finally got around to looking it up, so here's "Prayers of Steel" by Carl Sandburg.
Lay me on an anvil, O God.
Beat me and hammer me into a crowbar.
Let me pry loose old walls.
Let me lift and loosen old foundations.
Lay me on an anvil, O God.
Beat me and hammer me into a steel spike.
Drive me into the girders that hold a skyscraper together.
Take red-hot rivets and fasten me into the central girders.
Let me be the great nail holding a skyscraper through blue nights into white stars.
I've always liked that poem because it reminds me that whatever rut I'm in, I'm not stuck in it. I could be something completely different tomorrow if I would only wake up and decide that was what I wanted. I have, to a certain extent, decided that already. The only problem is, what happens when you get to the end of the process of fulfilling a dream and discover it wasn't at all what you thought it was going to be?
Sunday I woke up the first time at 10:30. Apparently I need more sleep. Put away laundry, did dishes, went to the grocery store, came home and made apricot and raisin scones. For some reason every time I make scones, the dough gets stickier. I think I left the equivalent of at least one scone stuck to the bowl, the counter and me (the recipe says knead the dough a little. Yeah, right. I had to add HUGE amounts of flour to be able to knead it at all.) At least they came out well. They seem to be disappearing fast.
Some day I should try to convince myself that I really can cook when I feel like it. I just don't feel like it all that often, so I don't get very much practice, and cooking for company makes me nervous.
I finally got around to looking it up, so here's "Prayers of Steel" by Carl Sandburg.
Lay me on an anvil, O God.
Beat me and hammer me into a crowbar.
Let me pry loose old walls.
Let me lift and loosen old foundations.
Lay me on an anvil, O God.
Beat me and hammer me into a steel spike.
Drive me into the girders that hold a skyscraper together.
Take red-hot rivets and fasten me into the central girders.
Let me be the great nail holding a skyscraper through blue nights into white stars.
I've always liked that poem because it reminds me that whatever rut I'm in, I'm not stuck in it. I could be something completely different tomorrow if I would only wake up and decide that was what I wanted. I have, to a certain extent, decided that already. The only problem is, what happens when you get to the end of the process of fulfilling a dream and discover it wasn't at all what you thought it was going to be?
