Journey to Authenticity

Kitchen Adventures--Taking a Walk on the Trashy Side

I've been a big fan of Jill Conner Browne for years. While rereading The Sweet Potato Queens' Guide to Raising Children for Fun and Profit, I immediately latched on to the following recipe (briefly wondering why I hadn't tried this before).  It's called "Apple Crack" (as in "as addictive as" or even "as bad for you as").

Preheat the oven to 325 degrees. 

Grease a 9 X 13 baking pan...

...and dump in two cans of apple pie filling.

Mix together one box of yellow cake mix, two (!!!) sticks of melted butter, one cup of brown sugar, and one teaspoon of cinnamon.

Glop it over the apples and spread it out as best as you can.

Top with two cups of pecan pieces. 

Bake for forty to forty-five minutes, until it's brown and crispy.

Let cool. (You may want to spend this time taking a brisk walk...you know, sort of a penance before the fact.)

 

Oh, dear God, why did I make this when I was home alone?! Learn from my mistake--bake when there's a full house. They can either help eat this calorie bomb, or join together to physically restrain you from scoffing the lot.

Score: Eight out of ten chef hats.

**Note:  Next time around, I'd add less sugar--that's what kept it from being a ten.

 

 

Evidence that Modern Society is Dumbing Me Down (1)

While doing the Washington Post Magazine's weekly crossword puzzle, I came upon this clue:

"One of the three Bs"

Did I immediately look to see whether Bach, Beethoven or Brahms was the correct answer?

No.

I tried to work out if it was Bed, Bath or Beyond. 

What I Have Learned So Far

1. When focusing on word count, it's impractical to write with a fountain pen.

2.  The first two hundred words of any writing session are the hardest. 

3.  The battle during the first two hundred words is between me and my innate laziness.

4.  During the first two hundred words, ANYTHING seems preferable to making my mind work. (Unloading the dishwasher will do, but reading someone else's book is even better.)

5.  The battle during the remaining writing session is between me and Fred (my inner gremlin).

6.  Fred has become much more devious. He has realized that I no longer respond to comments such as "This is crap," or "No one will ever want to read this." He has taken to making his comments sound as though they're coming from a place of concern. "Are you really sure you want to take it in this direction?" "Okay, now you're just typing to be typing. You're obviously tired. Why don't you stop for the day?"

7.  Though I can elaborate with an "I'll fix it later," Fred is best silenced with a simple, "Shut up."

8.  It is impossible for me to write when my child is sick.

9.  It is possible for me to write when I am sick, but it makes me very grumpy and fills me with self-pity.

10.  There are days when I really, really HATE that damn widget.

 

It Must Be Official--I Have a Widget

After much searching and playing around (a HUGE thanks to storyteller and Yertle  [I ultimately decided on something completely different, but you both really helped]), I have my widget in place. It doesn't have a great deal of oomph, but it definitely displays what I need.

Check out that sidebar!

P.S. If you're interested, I got it at Writertopia.

Not so much a resolution, as a promise...

Like so many of you, I've been taking stock this past week. What have I accomplished? What goals have slipped through the cracks? And even more important--what do I want to bring into my life? It's a new year, true, but it's even more momentous for me--2009 is the year that I kiss my thirties goodbye. Yes, in less than six months, I (let's bow our heads and say a prayer) am turning forty.

Plenty of good has occurred in the last thirty-nine years. I got through all the schooling that I (so far) wanted to get through. I met and married my life partner. I had a child. And I've accomplished plenty of smaller goals, too. I've been a consistent exerciser (through thick and thin) since I was seventeen. I've been practicing yoga since I was twenty-four. The roof over my head is my own. I've become a really good vegetarian cook. I've managed to keep one friend from my high school days. I've made new friends. In fact, if I stopped to think (and maybe I should actually do that), I could fill a notebook with my list.

But there is one goal, one very important goal, that I have flat-out failed to accomplish--I have not become a published writer. And what's worse, it's not that I have tried and fallen short--it's that I haven't tried at all.

There are tons of reasons for this--some legitimate, most of them not. However, I'm not even going to go into that. There's no point. The point is, I haven't given myself a chance and that's got to change. Now.

And so I am taking my first step and making this declaration: I will choose one of my many story ideas and write the rough draft, finishing it by March 15th. What's more, the rough draft will be at least seventy thousand words--that's seventy thousand words written over the next seventy days. I'm through with baby steps--I know what I'm capable of, and I know I can do this. I'm not going to edit as I write, either--I'm just going to write. And I'm going to keep in mind what one of my favorite creative writing professors told me: "You've got to write shit before you can turn it into gold." If I expect the shit, embrace it even, then maybe the gremlins will leave me alone.

So that's it. You all know my plans, and now I'll have to come through--I can't shame myself in Blogland. I think I'll install a widget in my sidebar, too--something that will allow me to track my word count. Does anyone know where I could find such a thing? (I've seen widgets that count down, but not up.)

Okay, I've stalled long enough. It's time to close the internet browser and focus. It's time to write.