Cabbage for breakfastPosted: May 6, 2013
Just back from a four-day writers’ conference in Oxford, on the campus of Ole Miss under both rain and sunshine, I am almost overwhelmed with urgency. My mind spins as I try to determine which of my many gotta-do’s is most important today and whether I can delay “real life” tasks such as unpacking, tidying the house, paying the bills, and setting my calendar for this week so that I can just delve into my writing world. I want to write new blogs, develop my new website, promote You Can Fix The Fat, and get back to Katrina. My Virgo Self with tendency to be deliberate, focus on the now, and aim for perfect struggles with my Artist Self to breathe, let the words burble and flow, and craft fine scenes with structure and information. . .
But first, a woman must eat. So after Sunday’s brunch at Big Bad Breakfast and my Cinco de Mayo dinner of lean beef and Argentinian Chimichurri with spring mix, guacamole, and roasted salsa, I am ready once more for clean consumption. Clean means the early-evening-into-late-night cocktail parties with fellow writers and getting by on five or six hours sleep are once more boxed and hoisted to the closet’s top shelf. Clean means backing off grits with butter and tortilla chips laced with lime. Clean means protein, low glycemic index carbohydrates, and cold pressed extra virgin olive oil with ounces of water equivalent to half my body weight. For this morning’s breakfast, clean means scrambled cage-free brown eggs, ripe on-the-vine tomatoes with sea salt, and cabbage. Left-over steamed cabbage.
Hey! I am an artist; I can be quirky; I can follow my own lead.
So today I shall try once more to move forward with balance of work and play, with clear vision of both domestic upkeep and writing ambitions, with confidence that I can. This week offers both opportunities and challenges. And unexpected gifts — my friend Harvey just called for help to take down Sunday’s altar flowers and preserve them for a special Sparkle event coming Tuesday evening at St. James’ . . . so much for carving writing time and not answering the telephone!
By the way, the cabbage was delicious. Weekend-on-the-road left little access to fresh, clean, home-cooked vegetables. When I opened the refrigerator door this morning, the cabbage called loudly, and I responded positively. Tasty, nutritious.
And now I am buoyed to accomplish much, to help others, to live abundantly as the artist I am and I aspire to become. Special blessings today to family — especially the two segments of my McAlpin family mourning the loss of loved ones — and to my nearby and far-flung friends. Peace.