I get to spend many hours lost in my own thoughts. It wouldn't matter if I am deep in my work or house chores like today. My thoughts or ideas are constantly on a big watermill rolling forward to let the wooden buckets spill ideas only to pick them up and recycle them again in my mind.
As an only child I was used to spending time in my own company and the comfort of being solitary calms me and can, on sporadic occasion, cause anxiety until I examine my feelings or talk to the angels and old spirits that surround me. It doesn't matter to me if you don't believe, it matters that I do.
The past week I lost my muse to write. I was letting the disappointment of losing my places in my cooking classes get to me. My previous and very timely reservations were ignored and tossed aside in favor of the new online self-serve reservation system. Those four classes I signed up for showed the status waiting list instead of confirmed. I know I was the first to reserve those classes with the main coordinator who is visiting the UK at the moment. The chef/owner and his staff assisting him with this didn't handle the transition well. After trying to rectify it gently via e-mails, I decided to let karma take care of it.
On Friday, all the volunteers/cooking assistants were sent a note saying to disregard every note in the past received from coordinators and that the new system would be the (next to) final say. It would appear I wasn't the only one e-mailing. I am glad I wasn't on the other end of those e-mails.
The classes for next month were a mixed bag, but I can handle those. I have since taken my name off two classes for the current month with waiting list status. I couldn't do the one today as it wasn't enough notice. Still no one sent an e-mail with anyone dropping out. C'est la vie.
During my preparation of a favorite Filipino dish of mung beans, I received a call from my fellow Filipina friend Sharon. She was trying a recipe I gave her today and was shopping for the ingredients. I corrected some of her selections and then waited for her to call me much later. When she did, she was distraught that it had not turned out correctly.
It is Sprinkles to the rescue: Rather than have her start over, I coached her by asking what it tasted like. Was it more salty than vinegary? How many laurel/bay leaves did you put in? How much crushed pepper did you use? Well, we were able to salvage it by adding water to tame the strong taste. Next time, she will also be adding the cubed potatoes I encouraged her to get before. Now she can enjoy her dinner.
Not much the rest of the day. I am bracing for the week that may get screwed up with the hurricane approaching. Lovely. Let me run the mill again while I put another load of wash before bed.
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