I was reading a typical adulatory actor article in the New Yorker, this one about Clare Danes. She was highly praised for her portrayal of Temple Grandin in a biopic, especially for the way she had captured the specific mannerisms characterizing Grandin’s behavior. Well, I remember attending school with several really good mimics, and if they had pulled anything like that, wouldn’t they have gotten into big trouble for making fun of the weirdo? Yet any one of those kids could have done the job just as well as the paid pro, for sheer love of the art.
Back to the more cheerful “too depressed to do anything, still must provide dinner” series. I’ve confected another energy-saving recipe that comes out quite acceptably. It is eggcous, or maybe couseggs? Didn’t want to go to the store. Had spent most of the day hanging out with myself at home, but not ready to deal with the plethora of labor-intensive choices required by a supermarket venture. Yesterday’s dinner involved washing and slicing cucumbers which clocks in as a certain amount of effort, but admittedly microwaving Trader Joe’s pork buns doesn’t count as cooking (they are tasty). So, I knew I had couscous. And leftover cucumbers and some grape tomatoes I’d washed but omitted to serve last night. Needed protein. Remembered the eggs. But how to make a one pot meal out of these? “One pot meals” always seems easier to me but I end up with a sink full of pots anyhow. Took a cup of Fairway whole wheat Israeli couscous (I imagine this would work with other couscous’s but this is the only one I’ve tried it with), and sauteed in olive oil as per package instructions. I added a couple of cloves of garlic to really make it mine. After sauteeing, you’re supposed to add 1 and 1/4 cups of boiling water. I boiled the water and whipped four whole eggs into it for a few minutes. Then I dumped it into the couscous and cooked 6 minutes as per the instructions. Remembered to add some salt. And when it was done, it was actually good! Another dinner, accomplished. Except for scraping out the pan…
If depression is like coffee, then morning depression is expresso. Or maybe even Turkish. Really dark, really strong, and full of grounds on the bottom.
Over time holes form in the fabric of your life. Things that you used to do come to an end. Don’t go to the office and drink morning foam cup coffee any more. Don’t walk the kids to school and chat with other moms any more. Don’t spend time with friends at the skating rink while the kids take lessons, any more. Don’t walk the dogs with the best friend that moved away any more. What seemed to be a sturdy, colorful, well made piece of cloth suitable for many uses has become a frayed and faded rag too worn to mend.