Fall Pros and Cons... But Mostly Pros

It's been a beautiful fall. To be honest, fall is one of my favorite times. The cooler weather, the leaves changing, and, of course, the baking. The cooking. The fall vegetables. The applesauce. The cider. The pumpkin and black bean chili that is currently simmering in the kitchen.

I may not be the biggest fan of Halloween, but everything else? Adore. Did I mention soups? Sweet potato pie?

Mmmm.

Oh yeah, and the Cardinals just won the World Series!

So the cons?

Well, I'm currently home sick in my pajamas. Fall, with its wonderful cooler weather and beautiful changing leaves, wreaks havoc on my sinuses. So, there's that.

But there's still soup. And pie. And chocolate tarts. And curling up with blankets and nooks and puppies.

So... I call it a win, overall. Especially once my nose stops running.

Note: Though I may not love Halloween, I love dressing up.  Alec and I went as an adventuring steampunk couple this year, and I made correspondingly extravagant cookie cupcakes.

"Gear" cookie cupcakes!

Got to play beer pong for the first time.  Lutheran Beer Pong.

Please ignore the caveman in the background.

Kitchen Therapy

This has, for some reason, been a terrible week.  I'm not sure if it's because I'm coming off of the Extravaganza weekend (which was not terrible at all, but amazing, in spite of an entire lack of sleep), or if it's because I've just been overdoing it for quite a while.  I have no energy, my allergies have been flaring up with no warning, and my motivation levels are bottoming out.  There have been an obscene number of 3 hour long puppy naps.  And I have to work this weekend.  And Alec is coming down sick again.

And.  And.  And.

It was time for some therapy.  And since I'm without a car tonight and can't go shopping for books, I retreated to the kitchen, wherein magical things happen.  And even if I'll still be tired at the end of the night, at least I won't be hungry.

And honestly, I do feel better.  There's something about the prep work of cooking, about deciding that what this dish really needs is mushrooms.  There's something about a KitchenAid mixer, and about the feel of soft cookie dough in my fingers, and about the delightful way cookies line up on a baking sheet.  You can't be sad when you pull a perfect tray of cookies out of the oven.

And, of course, an oven that works helps too!  (It's so shiny.)

All in all, I feel better.  Plus, I'm full of cookies.  So there can't be anything wrong with that.

I may just be ready to face Friday.  Especially since the last Food Truck Friday of the season is tomorrow!

A Note on Improvisation

Didn't I just say that my two worlds often combine?  Tonight has been no exception.

I am a strict recipe girl.  I fully admit it.  I have never been one to just throw something together and see what happens.  It comes from being a natural baker, but it applies to my life outside the kitchen as well.  I plan things.  My pole performances are strictly choreographed, line by line.  I don't freestyle.  I don't improve, in or out of the kitchen.  I can adlib to fix a flub, but then I'm right back on track.

But lately, that's been changing.  At least, in the kitchen.  I suppose I've been seriously cooking for long enough now that I'm actually gaining some confidence.  I've started tweaking, adding to, and changing recipes depending on what I'm in the mood for.  I wanted a cream sauce for some gnocchi last week, so... I changed the recipe.  I substituted.  It turned out amazingly.  Tonight, I wanted meatloaf.  I found a basic recipe, glanced at it, and then... made meatloaf.  I added what I wanted, put it in the oven, and hoped for the best.

I had serious doubts.

But, you know what?  It was delicious.  (Tastes a lot like my mom's recipe, but what else do you expect from watching her make meatloaf for over half my life.)  I experimented, I went with my gut, I went from memory, and it worked.  It's not always going to work, I realize, but it's good to know that I can make something good without going line by line through a recipe.

And, since things in my life always seem to go together, pole class tonight was no different.  Michelle, that minx, made us freestyle to two songs of her choice.  (Her choice, note.  Not ours.  Even more out of my control.)  As soon as she mentioned freedancing, my heart dropped.  I hate being the center of attention unless I know exactly what I'm doing.  I hate looking like I don't know what I'm doing, and I hate the potential for messing up and, as I consider it, looking stupid.  I'm the kind of actor who wants a strict director with a very specific vision.  Improving with an audience?  No thanks.

But, again, I was pleasantly surprised.  (I bet no one else was.  After all, don't we all have more confidence in each other than in ourselves?)  I didn't look like an idiot (at least, I don't think I did), I didn't fall, I didn't stop, and I believe I managed to keep a smile on my face the whole time.  I listened to the music, went with my gut, and, when all else failed, fell back on the old standby tricks until I could think of something else.

Life imitates art.  Or, perhaps, food.