I’m a person who gets stuck. On people, on ideas, in routines. Needless to say, I also have a lot of rules. All of them are designed to protect, a few of them are productive, most of them are wrong or unhelpful, but there you are.
There are serious examples, of course, places where I’ve been stuck that have been very dire and sad — but that’s not for a knitting blog. Today, it’s about guacamole.
Which is not to say I’ve tipped into frivolty. It’s been a hard adjustment, coming back to Nashville from Switzerland. My trip east and across the Atlantic was a confrontation with some serious nostalgia and I don’t quite know what to do with it all yet. It was fun, but it was hard.
And in the midst of feeling a bit unsettled, a bit mopey and sad, I lost track of my summer project. Indeed, I made guacamole last night, not so much because I wanted to, but because the avacadoes were about to go bad. It was sad guacamole, the guacamole of necessity. Not what I wanted.
Now I have all of this guacamole. And I wasn’t sure what in the world I was going to do with it all. Then I thought, I could put it on toast. Who says you can’t eat guacamole for breakfast? So that’s what I did. And I feel better.
It was delicious.
Now I’m going to the public library to track down some Alice Starmore.