Kitchen Blog: Thinking

socsbadge2016-17

You’re Never Too Old

I’m in my kitchen frying chicken and thinking about the feelings brought forth by Chris. It makes me realize that you’re never too old to fall in love for the first time. My mind speaks up.20141215_184153[1]

“You can be so careless with our heart sometimes.”

You’re one to talk.

My mind and I at it again.

Advertisements

Kitchen Blog: Stir Fry/Broccoli Beef

So I’m in my kitchen and thinking about Kel’s broccoli beef. I’d mentioned this to my family and showed them Kel’s dish. They wanted stir fry then and there. Well we didn’t have beef, broccoli or soy sauce. We had chicken and gravy over rice instead. Last night we finally had the broccoli beef and it was a hit. We all love broccoli and this fed the family with left overs that I took to work.stirfry

Thank you Kel for the idea. They’re already asking for more.

Here is the link to Kel’s post where you’ll find her receipe and picture. https://insidekelskitchen.files.wordpress.com/2016/08/img_1206.jpg

Kitchen Blog: Horton’s Kitchen

Kitchen Blog: In Sync/April 24, 2014

So I’m at Mercy Hospital and I’m waiting for Jha to get out of school. Does Tim Horton’s have a kitchen?

hortons cup

Anyway,  I just had a coffee from there, and I was talking to Pinky about my writing progress, or lack thereof. So I have decided to do the Michael story and it is a finished life, so this should be easy right? I’m listening mind. Isn’t this your cue? No advice, no commentary?
“This isn’t syncing.”
Now my mind wants to talk, and it’s right, this isn’t syncing. The PC, my tablet, my phone. They’re not syncing with the Evernote app.

Okay, it took a little bit of time, but we’re synced. Not my mind and I, sometimes we do sync, but right now, I’m talking about my electronics.

Kitchen Blog: Going to Cleveland 4/11/2014

In my kitchen early, frying chicken by 0630. I want the chicken crispy and flavorful. Seasonings of choice…a little garlic powder…pepper…seasoned salt…paprika. Some right on the chicken. Some added to the flour coating. Not much choice here, chicken travels well once cooked, and we’re heading to Cleveland.

20141225_132211[1]

My mind says, “Cleveland, where Chris lives.”

We’re sitting in the Greyhound bus station, waiting for the bus and our cousin Deloris.

So now I’m feeling some unnamed way and I see Chris from my mind’s point of view, but Liam is also there, and wtf is all this? My iPod is playing and I’ve critiqued two Zoetrope pieces and maybe I’m hungry for chicken, but I am either missing, or trying to miss Chris.

We’re going to see Auntie and I think of her and I want to cry, and my mind says,

“Not here.”

There are oldies playing that remind me of the very old days when Auntie was young, and our mother was alive and neither me, nor my mind, can picture the two of them together, as if where there was one, there wasn’t the other, and I know this isn’t true, because Auntie visited her twin often. Yes, Auntie is our mother’s twin.

the twins

Now it’s so sad because this could be our last visit to Cleveland with Auntie as our reason to go, and my mind is saying,

“Don’t think that now, not now.”

I want to cry now, rid myself of tears, so that I don’t cry at all in Cleveland. Auntie, when she leaves us, will join her twin and all her siblings. They will be young, possibly children, and they will be happy. They could be adults, reunited with lost spouses.

My mind says,

“They should be children. That way spouses who are not missed, will not look sadly on happy reunions.”

I agree. Yes, they should be children. All smiles, all happy. I like that image mind, I’ll go with that one.

Behind the Gates of a Controlled Mind

So we’re in our kitchen making bacon and cinnamon pancakes for breakfast. We cheat a little, not wanting that complete boxed mix, but instead she  uses Bisquik flour. She adds, an egg, and 1/2 cup of milk per instructions, then adds grated cinnamon and 2 drops of honey and 1/4 teaspoon of vanilla extract.  Hot fluffy pancakes. Crispy bacon.

wpid-20150530_112100.jpg

I’m thinking on how I’ve been in the recesses of her head all our life. I understand this because there have been dark, scary places we’ve gone. Been forced to go. Take the hand of a child, gently in yours, and if not taught better, all her young life, she will follow. So I didn’t fight the closed gate, even now with this freedom, there are things that go deeper, than my depths.

wpid-20150604_110649.jpgWe only have scraps of memories of the night mom was killed. We were there, but like our incidences of sexual abuse, the memories are snatches.
So now, I am the keeper of the key that unlocks the gate, and though I’m not as frightened as she is, I am wary. I peek and peer inside this darkness. I reach out and feel first, least I stumble onto a memory neither she, nor I, am ready for.

Kitchen Blog: Enter Chris

 So I’m doing dishes in the  kitchen. My dishes, my kitchen, and I’m thinking of Chris entering my life.
 washing dishes mine
“Yeah. We want to tell him our thoughts, right?”
I’m not sure mind, but here’s the blog.
‘Chris, you entered my life for a reason’.
“Our life.”
Okay mind, I’m using the collective ‘I’.
“Sorry. Please continue.”
Okay.  ‘Chris, whatever your motives were, your timing could not have been better. I was alive, but not living, even though I was dieting and doing Hip-Hop abs, I was not living’.
“Yeah, we didn’t know that then.”
No we didn’t my clever mind. ‘Chris, when I started talking to you, something clicked, a fire was ignited’.
“It felt good.”
Yes mind, it did. ‘So I needed this. We, my mind and I, needed this. So we will stop playing. No sadness, no regrets. We will use this to our advantage because there was sadness, there were regrets, there were even tears’.
“Yeah, and pain. Oh my God, the pain.”
Calm down mind. I know, we paid our dues. I was there.
“Yeah. Me too.”
I know. We earned this. Rough as the road was, I believe it’s the road that leads to our destiny.
“Yeah, our ‘ah hah’ moment, right?”
Our ‘ah hah’ moment. Right you are mind, right you are.

Kitchen Blog: The First One

2/16/2014
I’m not thinking anything, I’m just trying to make a sandwich.
It’s like this. I’m in the kitchen setting out bread, lettuce, tomato, mayo. There’s the plate, and there’s a knife. There’s bacon, crisp and hot.
And my mind is like,
“So what are we going to write about next? Are we blogging? Are we going to write on the Chris story? What about the poems? How about working on blog pages, or Instagram? You have to figure out how to get the pics off your PC and onto your phone so you can post them to Instagram. Wait here’s a thought for a story.
Then I’m like, stop it. Be quiet. I’m trying to make a sandwich. I’m hungry. I don’t have pen and paper, only sandwich supplies in front of me, and now I’m thinking I need another gadget. Just one more gadget to add to my endless supply of gadgets and computer accessories. I have the mike that connects to my computer and texts the words I speak. Now I want that mike on steroids. The one that streams to my computer, so my computer can type my words, while I’m in the kitchen, trying to make a sandwich.
wpid-20150622_094023.jpg