Cooking as sanity

Living at Vineyard, where all meals were provided, I realized how important cooking has become to my sense of personal well being. Very Zen, I think. At Vineyard, where meals were remarkably good, I habitually cooked only breakfast because I preferred my truck stop dishes to their fancy dishes. But otherwise I missed cooking. I didn't even bake bread as much because fresh rolls and breads were served at every lunch, and damn good ones.

Now, in our new apartment, I am cooking again. Before her heart attack, Harriet did most of the cooking, passing the baton to me only for my half dozen specialties. But since then I do it all -- and I enjoy it. In the morning in bed, I plan the day's menu. I like cooking projects that are labor intensive and take time -- they keep me busy. Also, cooking, I get a better sense of achievement and reward than I do in writing, where what fans I have are so invisible. Fans of food are right in front of me.

Part of my sense of "getting my life back" is cooking daily again. Another part if having a room of my own, in this case a corner desk. Someplace to write. As now.