Okay: those of you trying to follow the August Break entries, no, I haven’t dropped it – I just had a few days of chaos at the day job, trying to hold down the fort while two of my co-workers were off on vacation. For the past three days I’ve been staying over an hour late at work each day and working at about twice the speed. I contented myself by making a sign declaring our part of the office “Fort Wadsworth” and making a “please take a number for service” notice out of scrap paper and post-its.
Fortunately my boss thought it was cute.
But the fast pace has sort of bled over into the weekend, and I’ve made myself a roster of errands today – a lot of naggy little things that I’ve been meaning to do for a while but have been putting off. None of them difficult, just boring and un-fun – dropping my bike off at a repair shop, picking up garbage bags, simple mending of clothes.
I’ll also be doing a lot of food and pantry work. We’re at the point in the late summer when everyone is sort of over the thrill of “yay fresh veggies” and the sheer abundance has us all a little blase; this is the fourth or fifth week in a row that we’ve had fresh sweet corn in my CSA, the second time I’ve gotten dill, and the fourth time I’ve gotten cilantro. I liked getting the heirloom tomatoes, but then got home and saw that I still had about a half a pound from last week that I need to do something with. And my windowsill herbs are looking very overgrown. So I’ve already warned A that I’ll be doing a lot of kitchen work tonight – turning the excess tomatoes into sauce, trimming all the house herbs, and making up a bunch of different pestos, most of which will be going into the freezer for later in the fall and winter when we’d all kill for fresh green produce. It’s a very late-summer, early-fall mindset; preserving the harvest, squirrelling it away for later.
I even had a dream last night that suggested I was probably ready for this phase; we were in the early stages of a zombie attack, and it had somehow fallen to me to shelter some friends and their kids. And while we were barricading the doors and arming ourselves, I remarked that my freezer was well-stocked so we wouldn’t starve. I suggested a dinner of pumpkin soup, something I could easily make from the frozen pumpkin I knew was in there – but when I opened my dream freezer, I couldn’t find it. And for the rest of this dream, I was digging through the freezer, less worried about the threat of invading zombie hordes than I was about “where the hell did I put the damn pumpkin” – to the point that I even woke up with the fear that I’d lost it somehow. Honestly, the only thing that stopped me from leaping out of bed and looking in my real freezer was remembering that oh, wait, I was looking for a mason jar in the dream freezer, and the pumpkin in my real freezer was in plastic baggies.
I think if you feel more threatened by the absence of frozen vegetables than you are by possibly getting your brain eaten, you’re a little food-obsessed.