I started the day with fantasies about fun things to do today. The first thing I did was make brunch. Even before I finished that, I did the the first not-planned-for thing: I hit the wall. Not entirely figuratively...
Today's brunch: Tamagomaki, a Japanese egg dish. I'm still not happy with the finished product (I'm picky), but I do enjoy the learning process. Oh, I have so many "one of these days" dreams about different ways to approach this, even maybe inviting a former sushi chef over, and make him lunch, and have him teach me how to really do this.
Fortunately, I managed to get it off the heat and onto the cutting board before I started hitting the wall. Metaphorically, and (in a small way) physically... When I've been standing up too long over the cutting board, I often find myself pitching forward and smacking my forehead into the cupboard that overhangs my work area. And more doing careening about and grabbing for a handholds, more often than I like. Fortunately, I manage to maintain enough over my tool of choice (a sharp-as-a-scalpel Chinese cleaver), even when careening about, and I've never hurt myself or anything else. But still... my kitchen, always a beloved workshop and place for creation of artworks, is now also a place where I just can't work the way I used to.
"Can't do X the way I used to." I know, I know, it's the human condition. Inescapable, and inevitable. But dammit, I wasn't ready for it to happen now.
But the again, who is? No matter when "now" happens. But then again... the only time we experience, the only time we can experience, is ... "now."
So now I have to seriously, seriously, prioritize my rest-of-the-day, fantasized, activities. Number one priority: Wash the egg-cooking pan. It's a restaurant-grade pan, it has been made into a culinary master-tool by a former egg chef, and there are very clear rules about its care. Next... I had wanted to make some kale chips, a delightfully nutritious and very-satisfyingly-easy dish that I can make from a seated position... that, I think I can do. But the rest of today's hoped-for activities? Including going to the store to get supplies for the curry I was hoping to create today, for dinner tonight? Or the jaunt by the nursery to get my wife a new rose bush... the planting of which I also can no longer do...
A recurrent theme, it seems. "Can't do X the way I used to." I know, I know, it's the human condition. Inescapable, and inevitable. But dammit, I wasn't ready for it to happen now.
But the again, who is?