Bitch on the Blog

February 6, 2014

Boiling down

Filed under: Food,Future — bitchontheblog @ 19:04
Tags: , , ,

Disenchantment is setting in. I don’t like it.

Obviously I am not old as in OLD. Though the distance between my parents and me is narrowing.

Warning sign: You decide a book is not worth reading again. Don’t cry. Your brain will go with you when you are six foot under. No loss. Worse: I love cooking. I have shelves you’d salviate just looking at them. Yet. In truth? And it is one hell of a shame how much time I wasted on those who stir: There are principles. If you master those you don’t need a million recipes.

Yes, the future leaves. All I need to do is condense the little I know. Package, freeze.




  1. The remedy lies in starting a new process of enchantment. The process is called sigmoid curve and when you are about to reach the peak and the process of leveling off or decline, start a new curve.

    Comment by rummuser — February 7, 2014 @ 00:53 | Reply

    • I had to look up Sigmoid curve to remind myself. You are right, of course. As we are heading towards spring the last sprint of winter and its melancholy tends to set in for many.

      And yet. It’s different this year. Like you I am essentially of a sunny disposition. But people, more and more, do fall by the wayside. Some much younger than myself. When my mother was taken badly ill in September it shook me. To the core. I always thought I’d be ok with my parents wilting away. I lost my beloved and first (grand)mother when I was eight. After that (other than anything befalling the Angel) I thought I’d weather anything. Not so. I can’t begin to tell you how happy I am now my mother has recovered – and when I hear her voice and her old laughter I could cry with relief. She’ll be 81 later this month. I am willing her to stay alive. And she will. They don’t come more determined and tough than her. In the wake of some events about five years ago I have become quite introspective. Not least because I don’t want to leave the Angel with a mess on his hands. It’ll be bad enough for him when I bite the dust without him having to deal with the debris of my life.

      It is strange, and I can’t explain it, though have hinted at it on and off in previous posts: What once delighted me I now find all too much. By which I mean print. I am drowning in the stuff. You are most likely familiar with the term ‘psychosomatic’. And when something troubles me it literally goes straight to my stomach. So, I am now weeding print like I’d weed the garden I currently don’t have. To keep the nausea at bay.

      On the up, and I don’t know whether you find it so: There is a wonderful feeling of relief to lose baggage, to not actually care that much about something that once meant so much.

      If I were writing this to Shackman no doubt he’d set it to the tune of “Midnight Rambler” being nearly three in the morning here.

      Funny thing about our globe: To know that there are people awake when – by rights – I should be asleep.


      Comment by bitchontheblog — February 7, 2014 @ 02:56 | Reply

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