Well, in lieu of anything of note, I'll expound on food. Because I love food. And there are still several PFC recipes I have yet to share with you, dear readers.
Do you ever get the restless urge to do something but can't? Like today - it's a crappy, gloomy, rainy day out, and I just really want to write. Problem is - no inspiration. About what should I even write? I want to write another article for Quarter Life Daily but don't know on what topic to discourse. I was reading through some articles I wrote for them and they were good. Very good. Better than anything I've written in quite some time. It's so easy for me to flesh out a topic, but it's finding the idea, the germ of inspiration, that's got me buggered right now. So, instead of writing something with weight and worth, I'm here blathering about not knowing about what to write. Good times. smh.
Well, in lieu of anything of note, I'll expound on food. Because I love food. And there are still several PFC recipes I have yet to share with you, dear readers.
3 Comments
Dear readers, in a gesture of full disclosure, let me share with you that I fell off the Gluten Free Wagon last night. I could kick myself. I was so close to going a whole month without gluten!!! Ah well. Que Sera Sera. It happened like this.
If you've been following me on the Book of Face, you already are aware how severe this illness has struck me. If you're not on FB, following my every random post, let me assure you, it's been a doozy. I can't remember the last time I was this sick. There was that time when I was super little and on vacation and got a throat infection that made me puke every twenty minutes. That was...less than fun. Thankfully I didn't throw up at all with this virus. I did have a fever for a hot second, but it quickly petered out. After the first two days of extreme body pain, it went into my nose and throat, then into my chest and gave me this ridiculously awful cough for another two days that gave me a serious ab workout. I still have a bad cough, but it doesn't wrack my entire body. It's got the hollow, phlegmy feel to it. Joy.
I was going to start this post off by talking about how my brother used to call me "Victorian Frail" when I was a youngster because I was so often sick, and that I've finally kicked that namesake because I haven't felt this great in as long as I can remember - probably because of the new diet. And then...I got sick...Which really, really sucks.
My ballroom teacher would often remind me "Don't sweat the small stuff" followed up with, "It's all small stuff." This saying always used to irritate me, and make me smile. I think when you're young (and I'm not saying I'm decrepit, by any means, though I've never been so old before) everything has a sense of immediacy - your whole world (or day, at least), can revolve around one thing that you think is so mountainous. And while I am still like that to a certain extent, as I get older I think I'm having an easier time seeing the "small stuff". I still have the "big picture" of my plans/goals/desires, but really, I'm not sure I'll ever really "get there" - because everything is just a little step along the way, and it's a journey that has no finite end like I used to imagine.
I can't believe I'm 22. The magical year of youth is over. Now what? Silly it may seem, but I feel old. How did that happen? No more birthdays to look forward to, no huge milestones to hit. Well, I may throw myself a golden birthday when I'm 30 or 33 since I was jipped 'cause mine was when I turned 3. But still.
|
AuthorActress, Singer, Dancer, Food Enthusiast, Animal Lover, Writer. Archives
June 2017
Categories
|