I especially like the “eves”, the day before a big holiday. They’re plump with anticipation and preparations. This year New Years Eve beckons as the plumpest of them all, perhaps because the current situation offers so much potential for re-invention and that works for me.
I’ve been ruminating a lot in the past couple of weeks about what I want to explore in the next year. I could focus on travel, on living abroad, on being a better person, yadda yadda. However other stuff calls to me louder and clearer. If I were to pick a theme for said stuff, I’d have to say the common denominator is creativity – feeding it, milking it, shaking and baking it. To that end I’ve organized a list of side projects, most of which offer some sort of creative outlet.
I know there are a thousand other areas upon which I could fix my focus, at the end of the day they all feel like false prophets. What matters most is that at this juncture of my life certain “must-haves” have announced themselves, gone for broke and called in a full orchestra to make their point. I’m listening.
The beginnings of butternut squash soup.
- Be the Queen of Soup-making. I know…I soul-searched for a plan of action and came up with soup? Well, I love soup. It’s filling and comforting and a liquid that will never produce a hangover. It’s also number one on my list of favorite eats, beating out bacon, duck confit, ham and potato croquettes, grilled gambas (shrimp), and grilled/dry-roasted peanuts by many, many ladles. Plus, it’s a great way to get more vegetables into my system – homemade stock + some milk +a swirl of cream do wonders at balancing out any in-my-face veggieness that make other vegetable-fore dishes painfully revolting. During the autumn I made about 7 or 8 different kinds of soup and despite entering new territory with some of them I happily slurped them all: cauliflower, roast pepper and carrot, courgette and almond, butternut squash. OK, that’s only four kinds of soup, but I made each of them at least twice if not three times. I have a list of at least 7 or 8 (no exag) other kinds that I want to dabble with when we get home, including a few cold ones for the summer.
- Sock knitting. Socks, I think, are a perfect love triangle of practicality, relaxation and tactile hankerings. I bought some double pointed needles last week. Now I’m perusing patterns. Next comes the yarn selection. I will probably cuss a lot during the first go at making socks. A) Shit happens. B) Cussing is therapeutic.
- Know my cheeses. When we go to the different markets (in France) we almost always go home with some artisan cheese in our basket. As successfully alluring as cheesemaker displays have proven, I haven’t been too adventurous in the cheese choices. Mostly because other than understanding the mammal from whence said frommage derived – vache (cow), chevre (goat), and brebis (sheep) – I don’t know why I might want to try one cheese over another. This is tragic when you consider how many different kinds of cheese can be had within the 210,026+ square miles of France. (Answer: between 256 and 500, depending upon who you ask.)
- Pottery - In October we started taking weekly pottery lessons from an artist in Mons La Travaille. First we did pinch pots. Then used a form. Then coils. My pinch pots were hideous. They do not have long for this world in their current state, but I’ll find a way to recycle them (for the sake of the planet). My first form project, a wine cooler, had potential that I botched in the deco process. It also stands a strong chance of being recycled. My second form project, a cheese plate, is unfinished and stands a moderate chance of meeting the same fate as the pinch pots and the wine cooler. The jury will not convene on the matter, however, for several weeks. The last project I started, a tea pot done via the coil method, is too early in the early stages for prediction. But to it I’m applying something that gives it a fighting chance: keep it simple and stop comparing my stuff to everyone else’s. You might be wondering why pottery is named as a side project when I’ve had nothing nice to say about anything I’ve created, but pottery offers this: it might be one of those things that I enjoy doing even if I stink at it. So I like it well enough to keep going.
- Writing as a Marketable, Income-Producing Skill - I don’t have a plan together yet for this one. But it’s been brewing for a while and I’ve had lots of signs and signals that now is the time to tinkle or get out of the port-a-loo. I also have the sense that this new direction is a bona fide calling. Which is a different wild animal from a side project. Scarier. A roar that can’t be ignored. Also a brilliant source of creative fulfillment and personal happiness. Like I said, I haven’t organized a plan for putting this new direction into action, but I have a few inklings to free write and brainstorm about. For one, I’d like to take some of the work I do with coaching clients and convert it into e-books. I’m also thinking that studying the art of article writing would be a good thing to do. We shall see.
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Apple and rhubarb crumble with real vanilla ice cream.
Writing about Food – I think about food a lot, as even people who know me only slightly can attest. And hello, two of the above side projects involve food! I love puzzling out the words that best capture food related thoughts and foodie experiences. Moreover, I love to eat and have accepted the fact that I will never be thin no matter what. So why worry about blimping out from the eating? Thus, having taken all those ticked boxes under consideration, I’ve concluded that food writing might be an appetite-whetting double whammy. Not necessarily a marketable/income-producing skill. But one never knows.
- Sketching – When I was a kid I used to draw a lot, mostly people. Who am I kidding? I pretty much only drew people. Especially when I was upset about something. After one particularly ugly heartbreak at the tender age of 19, I hibernated in my room for a couple days and pored my sorrows into a pastel portait of Morrissey. (Fitting.) The love of drawing never hit a pot hole until the professor of my illustration class suggested I was better suited to coloring in textile designs. He said this with all sincerity and, I think, with the desire to be helpful. Well, the good intentions backfired. After that I lost the heart for sketching. Which is my fault, not his. It was a different time, and I wasn’t as resilient. However, that was (gasp) 19 years ago, and I’ve decided it’s high time I got over my hump. I think I’ll start with some ink/watercolor picture postcards. About what? I don’t know. I just like the size of a postcard. I’ll be leaning on Danny Gregory’s book, The Creative License, to help me recoup my artistic oomph.
Happy New Year everybody! Tonight I’ll glug-glug some bubbly on behalf of the new year dreams and schemes of us all.
