Confessions of an emotional baker

Hello, my name is K in Sweden and I am an emotional cook and baker. I have solved literally hundreds of problems in the time it takes me to bake a cake or make a batch of cookies. And, with the exception of anger, that goes for most strong emotions as well.

I come from a long line of folks (men and women) who know their way around a kitchen and were known to find their way there when emotions were running high. They also express love through food. So maybe it is in my blood. I might have adopted it because we tend to gravitate towards things that tie us to family and roots when we need to center and focus. I remember that I started doing it fairly young, so it could very well be that was looking for a healthy outlet.

I have heard stories of my Granddad calling members of the family and telling them that he had baked them a cake or cookies and then when they got there, he had 5 or 6 cakes or 10 dozen batches of cookies lined up on the counter and was waiting for various family members to come pick them up. They would then find out that he and my Grandmother were in an argument and he had gone into binge baking.

I have never really made 15 cakes when I am upset but I do understand the drive.

Telling Time

I have been thinking about TIME.

Over the course of our existence on this lonely little planet, we are all meant to slowly learn the secret that it has to teach us. But how do we slowly wade through the mystery without getting disoriented and losing track?

Think about all that we do to time. We hate it. We love it. We abuse and we cherish it. We race it when a crunch comes and we throw our arms up in victory when we beat it. We believe that we can cheat it long enough to play the game well. We take and give it foolishly before we know its worth. Then, we wish it back when we desperately understand what not having enough of it feels like. And we hate ourselves for knowing that it deserves more from us but will never get it.

Think about the steps to understanding it. We are all plotting along in this existence, using the same standard units to measure time and yet none of us have a total and complete understanding of how it should be spent. If we live every day like it is our last, we will eventually misunderstand quantity. If we sum it up in length, we could misunderstand quality. And if we try to manage it too much, we become obsessed with our own line. We can try not to waste it, but we have to waste it so that we can discover what it is like to lose it. And we have to know how it feels to give it away if we have even the slightest hope of understanding how precious it is when it is borrowed.

It has taken me 2 hours and 45 minutes to try and put my thoughts about time in a blog.

Pushing and taking chances

Feeling pretty good after making it through a really nasty Fibro/CFS relapse. Thankfully, it only lasted a couple weeks and was settled down enough for me to start working out a bit the 2nd of July. It felt really good in a self punishing sort of way. I knew that it was intense and there were a couple high pain moments but I just gritted, huffed and breathed through the pain. It felt amazing to push hard and shed the nasty energy that comes after a relapse.

The daytrip on the 3rd with H for our 10th was amazing! I got some great shots!

The 4th of July picnic went off without a hitch and we planners were all praised highly.

I celebrated all three high activity days by sleeping hard and then cooking for hours.

Then today, I took a major chance on my own photography. Sort of taking the first step outward. It is something I always knew I wanted to do but this is the first time that I am opening myself up and allowing my work to be seen by people outside my circle. I am comfortable enough with my own work to let most of what my inside circle says roll off my back if it is not productive or desired. But am I comfortable enough to let an outsider's view leave me unphased? We shall find out!