Stayed up working on my book review until 3am and then jotted down a few notes for the fiction currently floundering and milling about. Now it is 11 am and I am making myself a refreshing Lebanese chicken, mint and lemony soup called Shourbet Djaaj Bruz. A Lebanese friend showed me how to make this years ago — left-over chicken, chiffonaded mint leaves, the juice of half a lemon, a minced garlic clove, a grind of black peppercorns, a stick of cinnamon, a handful of rice, several cupfuls of filtered water. Bring to the boil, simmer and serve up when the rice is tender, adjust for how much lemon juice you like. Light and healthy comfort food that used to get me through the cruellest hangovers.
Speaking of light and delicious food, a friend sent me a link to some inspiring recipes from the UK chef Yotam Ottolenghi and I am smitten with his take on new vegetarian cooking (and Middle Eastern dishes, Asian dishes, North African dishes etc etc). Note to unrealistic and irrational self: I need to fall in love with a chef this summer and sensually enlarge my cooking repertoire if not my girth. In recovery we owe it to ourselves to nurture and take care of our detoxed bodies. And I do know it is not that simple.
Unable to look at the flood of ghoulish and grotesque Internet images of a dying tyrant.
Nanowrimo time again, National Novel Writing Month in November, that frenzy of communal writing for 30 days. I participate because I like the company, enjoy beta-reading and commenting, like the break from each day’s solitary stint. Many of us just carry on with our usual work-in-progress and hope to get a little further with the next chapter. Let me know if you’re in there and wanting writing buddies for the month.