My lovely is taking part in NaNoWriMo (National Novel Writing Month) this year. How it works: Start writing on November 1st. Write at least 1,500 words a day. By the end of the month, you will have successfully written a 50,000 word novel.
I am strongly encouraging him in this endeavor. It’s already been established that I do not plan on getting to see him much this month since he will be writing, and that this is okay. I want him to do this. He NEEDS to do this. He doesn’t have to convince me, I already know how important this is to him. You should have seen the look on his face, just so very excited. A kid on Christmas. Writing makes him so happy. It makes him who he is. I’ve taken that away from him (unwittingly) for 5 months now. My only request was that I get to see him on my birthday. This was already the plan, apparently, and it was also made known to me that I am invited to Thanksgiving dinner at his parents’ house as well. I can’t wait. His mom is the coolest person I’ve never met.
I did not take a picture of breakfast. It was just cereal. A certain flea market is open today that I wish to go to today. The television simply needs to be elevated off of the floor. Our necks will thank me.
I didn’t have to shop for terribly long before finding it. A nice, short little black wooden table with a grid-like pattern on all sides. $10. Sold. The old man assisting me even gave me a deal on it, $8. Even more sold! He tried to flirt with me all the way to my car. I was regaled with comments of how pretty I am and how thin I am and how much he loves my hair. He asked if I “was a size zero, or something”. Men don’t know a lot about sizes. They also don’t care. A man couldn’t care less if I am a size zero or a size 5. There is literally absolutely no difference to them. We walk around like it’s the difference between life and death…and they don’t even notice. Though I’ve always known that my disordered eating had nothing to do with what men find attractive, it really hit home today. I felt great about myself. I told the man that, though I was completely uninterested, his comments about my size actually did more for me than he could realize and I appreciated them very much. I even gave him a hug.
Thank you, creepy old man.
I did not have time for lunch. I got home, set up my television on my table, took a shower, and cleaned up the apartment a little for G’s arrival. He, of course, couldn’t stay long. He had to go home and write. I completely understood and started walking him to the door. He asked me what time it was. It was only around 5:30. He talked to me for a couple minutes longer then again requested the time. Just a little after 5:30. He decided he could stay for a movie and popcorn.
We watched Sky Captain and the World of Tomorrow. Wonderful film! It was beautifully shot! He left at around 9:30, which is early for him. I did make dinner for myself:
Butternut Squash and Potato Red Curry
I WANTED to use up some coconut milk that I had. The milk turned out to be bad. Dammit. I didn’t realize this until after I’d started cooking. So I used yogurt instead, but if you were to make this for yourself, use coconut milk! Yogurt was fine, it just wasn’t the effect I wanted.
Butternut squash, cubed
Ginger, freshly grated
1 clove Garlic, minced
2 t Red Curry Paste
Pinch of Cinnamon, Nutmeg and Brown Sugar
Crushed Red Pepper
1/3 cup Coconut Milk (I used yogurt as a substitute…in my own recipe. Fantastic.)
1/4 cup chicken stock
Optional – Cornstarch to thicken the sauce if need be, but the potatoes should add enough starch to thicken it
Fry the potatoes and squash in a little olive oil for 10 minutes, until they begin to soften. Add onion, garlic, and ginger and cook until onion is translucent. Add spices and curry paste. Add coconut milk and stock and allow to cook down to desired thickness, 5 – 10 minutes or so depending. If sauce is still not thick enough, add a little cornstarch.
*The yogurt is also a fine substitute, but really, the coconut milk was what I wanted. Use that. I promise it will taste just as good, if not better!
I do not know when I will get to see my beau again. It pains me, but I know he is happy writing. And I’m a big girl. I can take it.