Cooking
In the perpetual, possible pointless process of self-improvement, I decided--around the beginning of the summer--that I would take cooking lessons from a friend. They're kind of sporadic--we both have full schedules--but it has been really fun to learn about the kitchen. I learned about proper knife-holding skills, how to mince garlic (which I love) and other herbs, as well as looking for other ways of prepping meals.
Since it's definitely a hobby, with no expectations (aside my own) for success, I have been feeling my way forward. I want to be interested in the cooking, which is selfish, since my wife doesn't get to have the luxury when dinner time comes around. But, at the same time, I feel like, since I'm paying for lessons, I ought to be able to cook well immediately. That idea is ludicrous, but it's still what goes through my mind.
Today, with a fairly sleepless night and a lot of sewing work ahead of her, my wife wasn't really up for making dinner. I decided to try something new--experimenting on the basics I'd learned. I had a backup in case it all went to ash (some leftovers from last night), and set about finding and modifying recipes for ingredients we had in the house.
Despite some roughness with getting the chicken cooked, I was pleased with the dinner. It was very garlicy (yum), but, more importantly, it was a result of interest, learned and learning skills, and an opportunity. Since I've cooked a handful of times with success--no food poisoning or ignited kitchens--I'm feeling more confident moving forward. I'm hopeful that I can get to the point where it doesn't take me an hour to prep and cook the meal, but I'm far from being competent in the kitchen.
As far as myself goes, I feel like I have improved. It's incremental, but noticeable. Since so much of my life is either same-old, same-old (as recycled years of teaching and parenting can feel), it's a nice change of pace. I know my wife appreciates it, and since my boys won't eat much besides air and good intentions, I really only have an audience of one.
NaNoWriMo
I have, since starting to produce writing on a daily basis, tried to avoid journal/diary-style writing and giving sketches of what I hope to accomplish--or any context, really, of what I'm doing here. The idea is to write an essay a day, the topic being whatever interests me. I've done literature, meta-cognition, education, writing advice, theology, and personal reflections. Now, I'm finally breaking down and "making an announcement" of sorts: I aim to suspend my blogging for the month of November.
NaNoWriMo is an annual tradition of writers across the world (though it started off as "national") who aim to write 1,667 words a day for the month of November. The idea is that, by slogging through with that much writing, we'll have enough words (50k) to constitute an actual novel.
Now, I know my output potential: With nothing else on my plate, I could get that goal in less than a week. But the whole point of the exercise is to weave the writing into your daily routine, sacrificing the non-essential things in order to get the word count. I haven't checked, but my gut tells me that my blog posts here are about 800 words every time, some more, some fewer. Because I've carved out the time to write a blog post a day--and have, almost without fail, since the end of August--I'm going to try NaNoWriMo again this year.
Because I'm counting that as my daily writing, I won't be posting stuff here as frequently. If big things happen (I'll probably write my thoughts about the election, for instance), I'll likely throw a few words here. Otherwise, though, my fingers on the keyboard will be to pursue things unattempted yet in my prose or time.
Until then, I'll be working at my steady goal--a self-improvement of writing. So I guess these disparate things aren't really so disparate after all.
In the perpetual, possible pointless process of self-improvement, I decided--around the beginning of the summer--that I would take cooking lessons from a friend. They're kind of sporadic--we both have full schedules--but it has been really fun to learn about the kitchen. I learned about proper knife-holding skills, how to mince garlic (which I love) and other herbs, as well as looking for other ways of prepping meals.
Since it's definitely a hobby, with no expectations (aside my own) for success, I have been feeling my way forward. I want to be interested in the cooking, which is selfish, since my wife doesn't get to have the luxury when dinner time comes around. But, at the same time, I feel like, since I'm paying for lessons, I ought to be able to cook well immediately. That idea is ludicrous, but it's still what goes through my mind.
Today, with a fairly sleepless night and a lot of sewing work ahead of her, my wife wasn't really up for making dinner. I decided to try something new--experimenting on the basics I'd learned. I had a backup in case it all went to ash (some leftovers from last night), and set about finding and modifying recipes for ingredients we had in the house.
Despite some roughness with getting the chicken cooked, I was pleased with the dinner. It was very garlicy (yum), but, more importantly, it was a result of interest, learned and learning skills, and an opportunity. Since I've cooked a handful of times with success--no food poisoning or ignited kitchens--I'm feeling more confident moving forward. I'm hopeful that I can get to the point where it doesn't take me an hour to prep and cook the meal, but I'm far from being competent in the kitchen.
As far as myself goes, I feel like I have improved. It's incremental, but noticeable. Since so much of my life is either same-old, same-old (as recycled years of teaching and parenting can feel), it's a nice change of pace. I know my wife appreciates it, and since my boys won't eat much besides air and good intentions, I really only have an audience of one.
NaNoWriMo
I have, since starting to produce writing on a daily basis, tried to avoid journal/diary-style writing and giving sketches of what I hope to accomplish--or any context, really, of what I'm doing here. The idea is to write an essay a day, the topic being whatever interests me. I've done literature, meta-cognition, education, writing advice, theology, and personal reflections. Now, I'm finally breaking down and "making an announcement" of sorts: I aim to suspend my blogging for the month of November.
NaNoWriMo is an annual tradition of writers across the world (though it started off as "national") who aim to write 1,667 words a day for the month of November. The idea is that, by slogging through with that much writing, we'll have enough words (50k) to constitute an actual novel.
Now, I know my output potential: With nothing else on my plate, I could get that goal in less than a week. But the whole point of the exercise is to weave the writing into your daily routine, sacrificing the non-essential things in order to get the word count. I haven't checked, but my gut tells me that my blog posts here are about 800 words every time, some more, some fewer. Because I've carved out the time to write a blog post a day--and have, almost without fail, since the end of August--I'm going to try NaNoWriMo again this year.
Because I'm counting that as my daily writing, I won't be posting stuff here as frequently. If big things happen (I'll probably write my thoughts about the election, for instance), I'll likely throw a few words here. Otherwise, though, my fingers on the keyboard will be to pursue things unattempted yet in my prose or time.
Until then, I'll be working at my steady goal--a self-improvement of writing. So I guess these disparate things aren't really so disparate after all.
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