Today I’m baking without recipes. I’m not a baker, but I do like taking risks. Mini risks. A baking disaster is a comic disaster. A failed parachute is a true disaster, but I skydive, too. Other than jumping from airplanes, I keep my true risks to a minimum. Actually, that’s probably not true either. But I’m putting forth greater effort to maintain a risk-free lifestyle. I suppose baking without recipes is my way of compensating for the lack of danger in my life. If the lack of adrenalin gets me down, I’m comforted by warm cookies. At worst, I waste ingredients. At best, I feel both accomplished and comforted. Either way, I’m learning how to bake (and how not to).
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A cold front has blown in again. Yesterday I took a nap with the windows open and a nice 80-degree breeze blowing through the house. Today I’m in flannel pajamas watching cold rain fall through bare trees from a sunless sky. Winter is trying super hard to make up for the warm weather. Spring themed items are in the stores, but I’m not convinced that winter is done with us. I’m not convinced that normalcy by any means is around the corner anytime soon. I say that because the place I live gets mildly cold in the winter and last year around this time we got snowed in for a week. Things aren’t normal. After the lockdown that began two years ago in March and snovid barely a year later, my subconscious is expecting another disaster to be just around the corner. My anxiety is up, and maybe that’s why I’m baking–it’s controlled risk with a side of comfort.
I have the week off, anyhow, so I can be quietly anxious in the safety of my kitchen.
And now I’ve lost motivation because I brought to the forefront of my mind those things that haunt me.
I’m going to watch a movie now to distract me while I eat experimental cookies.
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