Sometimes the only way to make a choice is not to choose

I love cooking. The past year (I’ve probably mentioned this before) I’ve found myself going back to the same recipes over and over; when I try to pick something else, my mind goes blank.

It finally occurred to me that the sheer amount of options available — recipe books, online recipes bookmarked, old copies of Vegetarian Times — is what’s freezing me up. I used to work around this by keeping a list of my cookbooks on my computer and working through it, one cookbook this week, a different one the next. I didn’t have to sit and think about which book to use and not choosing freed me up.

I’ve no idea why I stopped but I started this week by making up the list again. I found it much easier to pick recipes — a potato and lentil dish, chocolate brownies, a chia/raspberry pudding (I have a packet of frozen raspberries I need to use up). I think that’s a good sign.

Now as to writing … last week, as I mentioned, was a mess. I got Jekyll and Hyde out late due to coping with medical stuff, doggy care, little errands, etc., etc. It would have been nice if this week had been smooth sailing … but no. I had to take the car in today for a broken rear light. I opted to Lyft back (the dealer’s shuttle service proved unreliable) which took more time than waiting on-site but hanging out over there is kind of wearying (I’ve had experience). On top of that, we had the dogs get shots Tuesday and Wednesday Trixie went in for a small growth on one of her legs. The vet says it’s not a life-threatening thing but they wanted to biopsy it and get it off her.

Somehow we’d convinced ourselves recovery was no big. Oops. She’s not to jump on anything, run, climb stairs, jump off anything for about 10 days. So now she’s in a cage like Plushie. And if I’m not in it and she’s awake, she looks at me in despair.

Yes, it’s a cone of shame situation too.

Needless to say, I melt and sit in there as much as possible, hence the presence of my husband pillow on the floor. However it’s not comfortable and I have to sit on the couch at least part of the work day to focus, sad stare or not.

Oh, and we had the housekeepers in. Let’s just say that moving those two cages so they could clean was a challenge. It used to be the cleaning didn’t get in the way of work but now I spend it sitting upstairs with Wisp and Snowdrop in the spare bedroom. It’s hard to focus.

Despite which I somehow managed a good work week. I got about 12,000 words on the next draft of The Impossible Takes a Little Longer. This time I’ve set it in 1984 (slightly alternate history) and I think that’s really improving things. The opening is way more intense and my other ideas seem to be adapting to fit smoother than I thought.

I resumed work on Savage Adventures, rewriting the 1940-42 entries and noting where I needed to go back and reread the relevant books. I got in a couple of stories for The Local Reporter, one on Carrboro’s efforts to reduce its greenhouse gas emissions, the other an interview with Carrboro’s cop of the year. Neither up yet. A bad night of sleep left me flatfooted — I took way longer to write them than I should have — but they’re both good work (though probably of less interest to anyone outside Carrboro. Such is the nature of hyperlocal journalism). And at Atomic Junkshop I blogged about which superheroes you trust and reposted an old post about what Golden Age comics were like on Earth-Two.

Good omen for the year that I got the work done? Bad omen that I faced so much interference? Time will tell.

Doc Savage cover by Emery Clarke. All rights to images remain with current holders.