September: the start of fall, and continued indigestion.

September has flown by, as has the rest of 2021. 
Not that I'm ungrateful, but is this what they are talking about when they say time passes by quicker the older you get?
Anyway, here's my take on some things that happened this past month; some highlights, and thoughts on all of the above. 

September started with new yoga poses, riding public transportation, and creating a recipe for a Cookies and Cream Coffee Cake (which you can find here) and an oreo cheesecake.
I can finally feel my body steadily becoming more flexible after doing yoga for over two years. To be honest, I am so impressed with my own progress, but also can see how much further I have to go.

Taking public transit has been a journey, to say the least. It is further teaching me patience and being able to go with the flow. I do not enjoy it. I've had enough time being patient. Hello, Irony. But it is a means to an end, and that end is saving whatever I would be spending on Lyft or Uber, and putting it towards a downpayment on my own vehicle.
I started a new position in the kitchen at a church in Midtown. I know. Me, working at a church. Crazy, right? It's fun and I feel welcomed. It pays, however sporadically, but it does pay. It's getting my creative mind up and running again, and to me, that in and of itself is exhilerating. 

The first day of the month was my first day back from a week-long trip to Tacoma and Seattle. I could write volumes about it, and I'm sure I will. It was one of the best weeks of my entire life. I've missed traveling. I flew this time. I know, I know. "Airplanes", and "Flying" and "Frank Sinatra singing 'Come Fly with Me'", and all that jazz.
On the flight I listened to Billie Eilish without knowing I would be Happier than Ever seeing my neices, Julien Baker was on my Highlight Reel, and MisterWives reminded be that someitmes you have to Decide to be Happy. These ladies singing loudly in my ears, along with me keeping my earphones in my ears to try and avoid being talked to. It didn't work. But yes to powerful lady musicians. I can't get enough. More please. 
Tacoma is lovely. It reminds me of Little Five points here in the ATL. Cool bars. Amazing summer weather. The port. The Museum of Glass. Different sunlight. Beauty. Steep Hills. Homeless camps. 
But then again, that was August, so let's get back to September. 
Also just real quick, screw Spirit Airlines. They are the worst. Never again. 

September began with a beard trim and a subtle mustache. Earl Grey tea with a splash of coconut milk, and spending some time fully inspecting (read: stalking) my plants to see how they had done in the week I'd been gone. Think lazy mornings where I drink tea and inspect every inch of my Monstera. Shooing away bugs, and doing this thing I saw on TikTok where you put an aerial root in water to promote faster growth and fuller leaves. Cool thing, it works; and now I have like five more leaves. Neat.

New music followed where I discovered Baby Queen and lived my summer fantasy while alone, yet missing a hand to hold and a shoulder to nuzzle into. 
The entire month was peppered with Little Five Points Marta Station and listening to music at the loudest volume. Lots of Briston Marony's Under my Skin, and Fools Gold. I had already Freaked out on the Interstate, so here I was on Marta instead. The Band Camino released a fire album that has painted this summer in a yellow shade that is somewhere between the midday sun and a bar of pure gold. The second weekend in September was so full of new albums dropping simultaneously that I had a manic attack where I was so excited I forgot to breathe. It's all good though. Yoga is helping with the breathing. so at least there's that.

September grew out, as did my beard. Thicker and fuller, but with a strength that made me brace myself every single morning. I was not prepared, but are we ever truly prepared for life's ups and downs? All we can do is put one foot in front of the other, even though sometimes that looks like walking uphill to get to work. But if we don't sweat, what exatly is the point of showering?
It truly has been a difficult month, but we've made it this far, so let's count it as a blessing. 

Mid-September I went to a concert where I cried my eyes out. Hearing someone sing live after only hearing music through headphones brought forth a viceral reaction within me. My body felt alive, and I found the hairs on my arms pulsing to the guitar and the drumsringing in my ears which was something I had forgotten was possible. Those big notes surrounded me and wrapped me up in their arms. A highlight for sure. 

The same week I made some Orange Chocolate cupcakes that blew my mind and reminded me of why I loved being a pastry chef so much all those many moons ago. Making orange caramel could turn into a part time job. That shit is goooood. It's fun to surprise yourself every now and again. 
I also made the most delightful fruit tart with some fresh figs and strawberries and made pastry cream for the first time since Culinerdy School. I would say I was surprised, but butter is indeed everything, baby. 

Late September I got a brand new leaf on my Colocasia. Finally. It's been pregnant for what seems like months. About time it popped out a new baby. And lordy, she's a big new leaf. I could use her as an umbrella. 
Making scalloped potatoes followed later that day, as did dreams of playing pinball again with a small vat of quarters by my side and a sour beer on the table a few games over. 

Next, I dog-sat for four days and it was so so good to be a dog dad. I've been missing my childhood pup, Isaiah. He was a shit-zhu, and I can see my memory of him fading, which also brings me some concern. I think I'm ready for a pup, but my bank account is telling me otherwise. Also this wonky schedule. While I was dog-sitting, I had a rainy afternoon where I wrote a bit one rainy afternoon.

September 20th, 2021.
2:07pm
"We find ourselves at that time of year when summer is ending. That mystical time of year when the tips of the leaves begin to change and cooler nights are just around the corner. Also, the same time of year when it rains incessantly in the south, and when it isn't raining it's muggy as all get out. Not to mention all. these. damn. mosquitos. 
Currently, it is one of those typical rainy days in Georgia. Due in part, to yet another tropical depression, or the pressure in the air, or god knows what else.
Regardless, it's pouring outside. I find myself watching the clouds drip and pour from the view of a large window that takes the place of a small wall.
Not at my usual abode, I am in Midtown.
It is a lovely window, and the lighting could not be better. I am accompanied by a not-so-small pup who is sitting and also staring out at the rain, but her stares holds a bit more contempt than mine. She likes being on the patio, but doesn't seem to be a fan of getting wet, so we have that in common. Not that I am entirely happy with the downpour, either. I would like to run to the store, or hell, even go for a walk. But someone left their rain jacket in the backseat of their roommates' car. And coincidently that same someone promptly lent someone their umbrella or they misplaced it so this is where I find myself.
Sitting in a foreign, yet not uninviting apartment, staring out the windows at the rain and attempting to gain some semblance as to what I'm going to do for dinner this evening.
That someone is me, in case that wasn't clear.
I've been dreaming of Sushi these last few weeks. 
But here I sit, neither remotely Japanese nor a sushi master.
In reality, I am simply someone who is trying to figure out their diet; what works and what does not. 

In the twistiest turn of events, this culinarian has developed some sort of food allergies, or sensitivities, or what have you. The struggle is noted and painful. For someone who loves an ever-growing variety of food and foodstuffs, the inability to not have discomfort when eating certain things is an absolute plague. I love tomatoes and steaks, so why do they cause me so much discomfort? Honestly, I just wish I knew what to avoid so I wouldn't have this internal war going on between my insides. In the words of Olivia Rodrigo, it's brutal out here. 

In the end, sometimes the things we love most can hurt us the worst. 
The hardest part of all that is how I love so many things. 
Laughter, for example, can rip me right out of a spell of sadness. Movement can bring a bounce of energy to an otherwise dreary day. A pinch of salt can cut the bitterness of coffee, not that I dislike either. A pop of color can brighten up a monochromatic outfit, and an iced coffee can negate that mid-afternoon slump. Well, maybe not negate, but definitely lighten the mood and perhaps even widen the eyelids. I could go for one now. 
And just like that, the rain has paused. I think I'll do myself a favor and go on a walk, of course taking the pup to stretch her legs and do her business. "

The last week of September, I arrived back home, did laundry, and opened up the tripod that had arrived while I'd been away. The day I arrived back home, I had a covid scare and got tested that afternoon. Quarentining in my room, wearing a mask to use the bathroom, it was so strange. I thought I'd be done with getting that long ass q-tip stuck so far up my nose. Turns out no, the world is still upside down. But thankfully it was just a leftover head cold from getting my shoes wet, walking in the rain the previous week. Stuffy nose, check. Chest congestion, check. Feeling like my head is swimming, reluctantly check. So I did the only thing that calms me down when things seem to be getting out of my own grasp. I made some stock. Broiling some carrots, onions, celery, garlic, mushrooms, etc. in the oven, removing to a large pot, adding water and loads of spices, letting it simmer for a couple hours. The house smelled like a french kitchen. That is, I would have enjoyed it if I had been able to breathe out of my nose. 
With said veg stock, I made a small portion of a miso mushroom soup along with the last piece of bread from Neidlovs in Chattanooga. I had been saving a loaf of Garlic-rosemary sourdough in my freezer. Deeply toasted is the best way to have any sort of bread, and this was no exception. It did not dissapoint.
I recieved a negative test around 11pm that night, and promptly ripped off the mask I had been wearing, and yet again cursed the covid gods and went to bed.
The next day I made granola and marinated tofu. Food had always had a hold on me, but this past month I let it grip on a bit tighter. I plan on continuing to surrender to its grasp more often, and without reservation. I like cooking and eating, so I guess that's a start. Not that this is new for me. 

Thirty is weird. 

So, as September winds down to a close, I'll stay content with not knowing what lies ahead. Not that I'm content with being caught unaware or under prepared.
But content with knowing that one month can hold a tremendous amount of opportunity, if you only let yourself be open to it.
A new month starts in about two minutes.
Let's go, October. I know there will be unexpected hangups, but the possibilities are endless. I'm going to do my best to take a hold of whatever comes my way, eyes open and ready to experience more and bigger things. To let my breath be taken away by more drum beats and my heart break a little bit more with each new cupcake recipe. I may not be ready, but here I am.
Arms open, and willing. 
Let's get this (pumpkin spiced) bread, yall.