Squid tales

I discovered a seafood market through a Japanese friend. They have wild squid.

I am vegetarian on most days, but there is the occasional seafood deviation once or twice a year for my mother’s prawn fry or for the crab curry served at a lovely restaurant in the city.

I was feeling daring this weekend, so I purchased some of the squid. This is my first experience with preparing a seafood dish from scratch. I finished cleaning the squid and can’t get their eyes out of my head. In retrospect, I lacked the stomach for this. I like my happy place of denial, and would just prefer to see everything fried and covered in spices, and on a plate.

My Moma membership is standing me in good stead this summer. It was inexpensive, relatively. It has already come in handy multiple times, what with the free entry pass for a guest on each trip. While modern art is not my preferred genre,I have learned so much about it (and I am sure I have only barely scratched the surface).

I have also found a new cafe thereabouts that I like. They serve Austrian dishes. I can’t keep the names in my head and they must think me uncivilized as I stand there and ask for the ‘red and purple one’. I can’t get enough of the rhubarb pastry.

I have made a great deal of progress in the past nine months with my writing projects. While life has been jumbled in parts, this particular side of it has been fortunate for me recently and I am grateful for that. Perhaps the fortune is strongly related to the group I was lucky to fall into. I do well in small groups, and with a great deal of constructive feedback. I have been lucky to get both in the last few months.

Coming out of a tumultuous set of situations that ended in the spring of 2015, I had been in a stage of stasis, trying to coming to terms with all that had transpired. It took me longer than it might have taken someone else. I hadn’t known how to get back to the path that was mine, from the wilderness I had wound up in. Writing helped a great deal to find me again. Looking inside was what I had been once very good at, and somehow I had forgotten how. It took me a pen and paper, and many thousands of words, before I remembered again.

 

Work has kept me busy this month. Hopefully, it will ease in the coming weeks.

I am off to a Marilyn Manson concert soon, with my faithful concert partner who likes to sleep while I drive. We are hopefully over his Bernie Sanders phase, but I am worried since he seems to be extolling the virtues of Trump’s daughter these days. I can’t quite see the bridge from Sanders to Ivanka, but what do I know?

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