Sunday, January 21, 2007

Finished Ruth Reichl's newest memoir, Garlic and Sapphires and it's made me think twice about culinary school. I've already started to wonder how whimsical that idea is/was; not that I love food or cooking any less, it just seems like there are so, so many other things I want to do too. Why do all of these options telescope into a messy pile labelled AFTER COLLEGE? It's too damn hard to take a long-term view when the shorter terms are so uncertain. I know I'm taking this too seriously. Back to the book. Reichl illustrates the New York culinary scene vividly, but the hijinks and disguises and descriptions of meals with price tags higher than the contents of my bedroom aren't what got me. At one point, Reichl gives her high-end leftovers (duckling with hoity-toity sides and sauces I can't recall) to a homeless guy on the subway. Eating is fundamental, she seems to say, and inequity is an inescapable fact.

Thing is, despite my Education Rant* and all of the trappings of good liberaldom, all I really want is a cozy life. Good food and friends and all of those simple bourgie pleasures that come from a modest paycheck and white collar.

In the meantime, I have a thesis on superheroines stagnating over my back burners, some peacenik activities that appeared out of nowhere, a suddenly perplexing personal and social life and a job that leaves me smelling of pork. And not in a good way at all.

Despite all the vitamins and positive mental attituding, I'm sick too. January was allegedly for hibernating. The only hibernation in my life has been grabbing the sparse moments between coming and going to listen to a little something on the old iPod.

The fridge talks to us now. Complains, mostly. It's an obnoxious reminder that yes, we do in fact still live in a crummy West University apartment and settled for way less.

Hilariously, though, I realized that should I find myself teaching, I'd be joining the family business. No sheriffing, trolley driving or cartography for this kid. No military service or dermatology either. I think it's kind of quaint.

*I'll save this one for later.


M. said...

Does drinking waaaaaay too much wine post-Duck win make for a perplexing social life? I know it makes for a perplexing Sunday, during which one's cat might mistake one's shoulder for a cat-sized sofa because said shoulder has not moved from one position for going on several hours.

We'll be at the Stein Thursday for the sans-Brooks UW game ... scary, scary!

erica said...

Not too perplexing, no, though the rules of the animal noises game confused me. Likely on account of my wine consumption (and J's) by that point. In fact, that was the least perplexing part of my weekend. Funnest, too.