Three Things from a Busy January

Gertrude, hiding from the chilly scenes of winter

What I’m writing…

Friends, a lot of writing doesn’t actually happen at the computer. Much of it happens in my head while I’m walking around my beloved NYC.

Me, writing

Or when I’m knitting or cooking or driving or staring into space. My stories live in my mind and unfold best when I let my imagination roam free. I write and rewrite sentences. I come up with plot twists. I revise scenes. It’s some of my favorite time, just my story and me.

Sometimes I pause and jot down notes. But mostly I hold it all up there like the precious thing it is: a story, made up of fragments and risks and playfulness and emotional truth. And maybe some fairy dust.

This is where I am now. Living in my imagination as a story takes shape. I’m spending a lot of time in a shopping mall, an ice cream parlor, a Crosby, Stills and Nash concert, a Sunday dinner in 1974.

Like my novels The Obituary Writer and The Stolen Child, I’m conjuring the past. If you pass me walking along Bleecker Street and I’m mumbling to myself, just know that’s me…

What I’m knitting…

I had the great good fortune to be invited to the San Miguel Writers Conference last week.

I gave a 90 minute talk on revision—one of my favorite topics—and I taught a six hour intensive on memoir. In between I ate Mexican pastries and talked to friends old and new. I drank margaritas and Mexican wines. I ate pork belly tacos and lots of guacamole, emoladas and enchiladas.

And, when I needed to decompress, I curled up on a sofa in the hotel lobby and knit, happily.

Imagine how I felt when I saw this!

I dropped a stitch rows ago, probably on the flight to St. Petersburg, Florida last month.

When I discovered the dropped stitch, I tried to fix it by pulling it through with my fingers. No luck. This bugger needs a crochet hook to get it all the way up to where it belongs.

As always, knitting presents me with metaphors. How many mistakes have I made “rows” ago? More than I can count. Some I’ve been able to fix, but others remain, lingering in the background.

I wrote about this in Oldster a few months ago. What to fix. What to let go. How to move on.

What I’m thinking about…

Spaghetti sauce!

What my southern Italian family calls gravy. We make it thick and rich. We make it on Sunday morning and let it simmer all day. We make enough to fill Mason jars to give to our kids and also to freeze for future lasagnas and eggplant Parmesan. We serve it with meatballs and sausage and a boatload of extra gravy on the side.

I woke up on a recent Saturday morning missing my mom so much it hurt. I needed to talk to her, to ask her advice about a big decision I had to make and discuss how I felt about someone. Gogo would have had good advice for both problems. And after we drank coffee and one of us smoked a cigarette, she would have handed me a fork with a fresh, hot, sauceless meatball on it and I would eagerly bite into it, burning my mouth a little and loving every bite.

So I went around the corner to Gourmet Garage and got everything I needed to make Gogo’s gravy. All day Sunday, it simmered, comforting me.

And you can make it too! The recipe is in my book Kitchen Yarns: Notes on Life, Love, and Food!

And also…

In just one week I got to experience the thrill of the first snowfall…

and to sit in the Mexican sunshine…

Both were beautiful. And rejuvenating.

We haven’t seen snow in NYC for a very long time, and it was magical walking through it en route to a party with good friends.

And just as magical to sit on a sunny rooftop with a margarita in hand and friends all around me.

Michael and I are keeping the snow-sun seesaw going by a trip to Key West together, followed by me in London, then Tucson. And then we have a getaway to Scotland that promises at least some rain…

PS…

Speaking of rain, this post starts with a video of the torrential rain here in Key West this morning. Yesterday was sunny and warm…

But if you’re like me, the sound of rain is pretty wonderful. Calming even. Feel free to listen as needed.

As always, thank you for reading. I hope you find comfort in food made with love, and with the many pleasures of snowy days and sunny days.

We have to all find light wherever we can!