Far too long since I posted anything-- perhaps a mark of a)getting pregnant, b) having a baby and c)returning to work? I commend all of you out there who manage to work on your writing in the throes of new motherhood. I have really struggled to stay motivated and connected to my novel. But i am learning that the sun always comes up after a bad day or a bad spell, and onwards we go from there!
So to stay committed, here is an excerpt from early on in my novel, which I am happy to say I am back at work on, as Rachel goes to daycare.
Good to be typing again. Good and scary. More good than scary.
Sunday morning, I awoke at my usual
7 am. I tiptoed out of bed to the kitchen. I should have been able to sleep in,
especially after a night like last night. Ed and I had no plans, so we cooked
up a feast—grilled tilapia with a curry sauce, wild rice pilaf, early asparagus
and roasted beets. My throbbing head recalls that we went in to the evening
planning to sample, though ended up finishing, two bottles of Sancerre. I can
vaguely recall the uninhibited temptress in me pawing at Ed on the couch. I
blush as I flash back to some of my moves. As per usual, some little creature in my being
never fails to wake me up to enjoy the end of the party on these quiet weekend mornings
while Ed unfailingly sleeps in until 9.
Might as well get my salads ready. The
coffee pot is all set up to brew? I am such a psycho!
Ed
makes fun of me all the time for my tendency to get the kitchen spotless and
ready for the morning when I have had a few drinks. I press the ‘on’ switch on
the coffee pot and listen to the whirr of the bean grinder, and suck back a
large glass of water. I remember reading that a large glass of water first
thing in the morning, especially after drinking, is like giving your liver a
shower.
I
set up my workspace: salad spinner in the sink, six rectangular glass containers
in a row on the counter, cutting board, vegetable peeler, flat hand grater, and
sharpened Santoku knife. I give my hands a good wash and set to work.
Methodically, I drop the large clamshell container of mixed greens in to the
spinner and rinse them off with cold water, turning the greens with my hand to
make sure they all get well rinsed. I spin them for a good minute, and take a
moment to thank my expensive salad spinner that I spent way too much money on
but just love. I evenly divide the greens amongst the containers. I remove the
colander of my salad spinner and drop in six carrots, a yellow bell pepper,
some broccoli florets, an English cucumber, and a pint of grape tomatoes. I rinse
them thoroughly, and shake the colander around to try to remove the excess
water.
Peeling
the carrots is a messy part of this routine, and I seem to always find the
remnants of carrot peels around our kitchen green waste bucket throughout the
week. Carrots peeled and ends removed, I start the process of grating them one
by one, each over their own container of greens. Why do they taste so much sweeter grated than chopped? I move on to
the yellow pepper, slicing around the core and seeds, trying to get every last
piece off the imported yellow beauty that costs so much money but is so worth
the taste. I chop up both it and the broccoli florets and sprinkle them evenly
over the containers. Lastly, I halve the grape tomatoes and distribute these.
From the pantry, I select a can of chick peas and a can of baby corns. Once
these are drained and rinsed, I divide them amongst the salads and snap the
tight-fitting lids on my containers.
The
coffee maker beeps just as I stack the salads in the fridge, satisfied. I grab my
phone, and text Maggie a quick “Hey! You awake?” and just as I finish stirring
my extra sweet and extra creamy coffee, she calls.
“OK,
I am officially a loser—I am at my office,” she moans. “What are you doing?”
“Just
poured myself a coffee and am looking for a good gab,” I answer, my voice still
pretty croaky. “Why are you a) up so early and b) working on a Sunday morning?”
