Some weeks just feel out of sorts.
Emotional or stressful, whatever the heck you want to call it……it sort of hangs in the air.
Like when you accidentally burn beautiful little orange pieces of carrots for fried rice. Then you have to stop and toss and take out the garbage and scrub & clean the pan five times. Then you start over, and yet somehow that smell of burnt carrots is still lingering, hanging in the air, for quite some time. Come back into the kitchen, windows open, 3 hours later, yep, it is still faintly floating in the air.
This past week, some of us have dealt with wedding stress, the stress of being unwell, injury, memories of the past, poor sleep, missed talking to grands, stubbed our little toe on our right foot, however, I can safely say, we all have felt the punch of our election. Boy Howdy, did we all feel the stress. yikes.
No matter what side you were on or if you were balanced precariously on the fence……..political stress packs a wallop. (I won’t mention the poor behavior of talking badly about others. They all better be on their knees thanking the Good Lord, that I am not their mother. My kitchen floor would be spotless! If you have time and energy to talk bad about others, then I guess you have time to scrub my floor or rake my leaves, or wash my windows?) If you would like, you can certainly ask our grown boys how I feel about talking poorly about others. I am quite sure they will fill you in.
The stress is still lingering, floating all around us.
Back to basics my friend.
When I can’t seem to move gracefully forward, I notice that I stop and stay put. I do things that I can control. I take extra time to wash dishes, by hand. I don’t grumble about folding laundry, I just find the calm in the process. I don’t mind plucking weeds or raking leaves. I can see the results of my efforts. I send cards. I write actual letters & walk to the mailbox and send.
I measure and stir and use a whisk.
Oh sure, I have a great machine with a wonderful dough hook. I didn’t use it.
I used my hands. I needed to knead dough. I wanted to work with my hands. I was making something to give. Not to sound to “Medusa Mom crazy”….. however…………..I needed to feel connected to it.
All with the idea, there is no way, we could ever eat all this food before it spoils.
So instead of fretting and fussing over things I couldn’t/can’t control , I decided to bake rolls for some neighbors. No other reason than just to share with our neighbors.
To remember and to remind myself that we belong to each other. Not what the news reporters tell me nor what I see on face book.
Plain and simple: We belong to each other.