writing skills/profession


Gingerbread is a Christmas treat and there is a good reason for that. It’s time-consuming and potentially injurious to the baker due to the endless kneading of dough.

I am not blessed with a fluid ambidextrous nature. I am predominantly right-handed with a few specific left hand only functions. Dough kneading just doesn’t work with my left hand and my right wrist is prone to tendonitis due to a repetitive strain injury I acquired working salad prep back in my university kitchen wench days. So today, I am blessed with a stiff and sore wrist that is going to set back my cookie making schedule a wee bit. Or a lot bit. Depends on how much tendon and muscle kneading my dearest husband can stand performing and whether or not my massage therapist can work a slight miracle this coming Wednesday.

The right wrist is my bane. It was broken during a freak accident in grade 7 and rendered weaker by my insanely bad pencil grip and years of scribbling in spiral notebooks. Typing came along later but had I a computer before I was 25, things might not be so bad now. And it’s kind of bad. Not carpal tunnel bad but enough that it makes bearing weight on the wrist – which is somewhat to intensely important in a yoga practice – to just writing a blog post, a chore that requires ibuprofen and icing in the aftermath.

Don’t cry for me though Argentinians. There are worse things in life than a game wrist. It’s inconvenient, however, for someone whose left hand is limited in function.

I was reading recently that scientists really don’t know why most people are so handicapped by extreme right-handedness. The reason we favor our right over our left isn’t even clear. We are the only animals in the kingdom with use of both hands that limit ourselves to just one or the other. Ambidextrousness is common among other primates with “hands”.

Rob’s like “Just switch your mouse to the left for a while” in terms of making the computer easier to cope with during my convalescence. But I might as well use my left foot as my hand where mousing is concerned because they are equally awkward.

On the upside, we have tasty gingerbread despite the fact that I had to google to salvage the dough, which was very dry and crumbly. Need to tweak the recipe me thinks.

The frosting set well despite my lack of meringue powder. Is there a substitute for that? Powdered egg white maybe?

But the day is dawning, bum wrist or no, and there is Christmas shopping to attend to. Dee asked for one thing. Just one.

“Santa will know what else to bring me,” she said. “He does a good job guessing.”

Indeed. But if this one thing isn’t secured, the whole charade goes down the toilet this year.

Sure is Monday.


Go 32

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Which is not the answer to everything but it’s pretty amazing to me. Today’s blog post makes 32 posts for the month of November between this blog and the one on BlogHer. My wrists ache, my brain feels emptied, and I am going to pretend that yesterday’s posts didn’t offend anyone.

From a pure writing standpoint, the last month has been quite productive. I’ve been taking an online class with Christina Katz and by this time next week, I should have a nice body of work to start shopping about in the big bad world of print. Take a stab at the freelancing thing.

Blogging daily. Twice no less. Has been good for my brain but I am still probably leaving my best stuff all over Twitter and Facebook.

I was on fire on Facebook today and not in a friendly way but certainly in a progressive feminist writer way, which someone mistook for “leftism”. When did refusing to be suckered by the politics of class-ism and racism and sexism become a “liberal” rather than a “moral” issue?

But aside from that and the fact that I made pizza crust from scratch for the first time in eons, the day was a lazy one. Wednesdays are slug days for me. I had good intentions but my ear is still bugging me and throwing off my balance and my brother, CB, called and we talked for over an hour. He talked. I listened. I’m a good listener. Just so long as I am not sitting in front of the computer because Rob will tell you that I have the attention span of a gnat and will feed my ADD if given have an opportunity to do so.

Which is why he shouldn’t give me a Samsung Galaxy II S with gazillions of speed and ninja functions for my birthday – but he so is!!

I will now be tagged and as baggable as every over sheeple in North America.

The Top Mom Blogs contest ends at 5 P.M. PST tomorrow. I am still no shoo-in for the top five. Most of the others in the top ten are sponsored and have advertisers. I am so out of my league, but I am giving it the good fight. Cajoling FB friends and family daily and have a few people helping solicit voters from among their FB and Twitter lists. Adds up slowly. The woman in the top spot effortlessly gains a hundred or more votes a day. She’s got over twice as many votes as I do. I have no idea how one does that. I should ask The Bloggess sometime. She wins these contests all the time. But one last plea, hey? Click over and vote for my blog. I’ve never won anything and this would be beyond awesome despite it being nerve-wracking and the fact that I will never do this kind of thing again because it’s bad for my fragile sense of self.


Photographed by Kenneth Chan. youngjediboy@hot...

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Except for the sleeping until nearly noon, it was a farm wife on the little prairie day. Rob rescued our pitiful potato crop on Friday and they needed to be turned into delicious meals before they rotted.

I began the process yesterday afternoon with stock pot full of potato soup. I outdid myself. It was soup for which to die. However, I put barely a dent in the potato stash and so determined to make another pot today for the freezer and turn the rest into delicious breadstuffs.

It’s not fun. Gardening, harvesting or transforming. I am left with little doubt as to why women abandoned the kitchen and cooking in droves as soon as technology, cultural norms and the fast food industry made it possible for them to do so. I am fortunate that I have a husband who doesn’t believe that all things drudgery is women’s work. I experimented with a new soup recipe yesterday and found a way to turned mashed potatoes into tasty buns today, and he dug in, peeled and diced while I made everything else “so”. We are a team like that. Slightly awesome to behold if I do say so.

Before we started, a trip to town was necessary. Hard as it is for me to wrap my mind around, we don’t have enough Tupperware for freezing.

“Canadian Tire or Walmart?” I asked.

Unless we make for the edges of the city or the city itself, our shopping venues are quite limited in The Fort, which is the one thing I don’t like about it. I have no idea why the town council thinks young families would want to settle a place with overpriced, poorly constructed home and zero convenience and ease of shopping when they could find better, cheaper options closer to the heart of the city? But I digress and will leave the puzzlement of the town’s management for another day.

“I guess we should patronize Canadian businesses,” he said and so Canadian Tire it was.

Known generally as Crappy Tire, it has its niche in automotive parts and sporting goods, but it’s no Target.

I haven’t been in since the remodel, which consists of mainly rearranging where is what – something that doesn’t endear a store to me in the slightest. They did nothing about the faded worn feel of the place or to fix the fact that even with a dozen easy to access employees walking around, no one has the any idea what you are talking about when you ask them questions and fewer of them know where specific stock is housed without needing to contact a supervisor.

Tupperware, a new bread maker and Christmas decorations later, we were on our way to tea, slushies and home. Seldom do we indulge in the North America Sunday consuming rituals, so it’s a novelty when we do.

I am not done with the wifery. There is bread to make tomorrow. I am okay with baking. It’s not the worst thing about being a homemaker. That would be cleaning. Not the daily tidy up, but the deep sanitizing/dusting stuff. Baking does shoot your day to shit however, but the oven time part does facilitate writing pretty well.

The day ends with Rob on his knees grouting. The kitchen is about three steps away from done done, which makes this Prairie wife’s day.

 

 

* Just five more days of this mom blog contest thing. I’m precariously perched in the 6th spot and honestly, to get the maximum mileage out of being linked in the list – I need to be in the top five. When the site promotes the list, it only shows the top five and you have to click-through to see the others, which I am guessing doesn’t happen a lot. So to get to the fifth spot – I need more votes. 25 or so to catch or just overtake her. If you care to help out, click here. Remember you can vote daily and more than once if you have a smart phone and a work computer. Thanks!