Monday, March 8, 2010

In Which I Retreat from the World's Noisiness into Kitchen Quietness

Am I the only grown up who feels that life has gotten too loud lately?

I will now wait a few minutes, so that those of you who knew me when I was young can bring your laughter under control. I was that girl who disturbed the whole dorm with her loud rock music. I partially deafened one ear by my relentless listening to loud music through headphones.

And even though I'm partially deaf, I'm still finding modern life too loud. Some of it, I expect. I went to Best Buy, which has always been too loud, which was a shame, since I could have spent more money if I could have stood to be in the place a minute longer. I only went there because they had the printer I wanted for a cheap price.

I went to happy hour on Friday, which I guess I should have expected to have loud music. But I was the youngest one there by probably a good 10 years. Am I the only one who has outgrown my tolerance for loud music?

The penultimate loud experience of my week-end came at church, if you can believe it. Usually, the sound system at church seems to be working at half potential, which is good for me. Alas, not yesterday. Everyone seemed overly amplified. I thought I might not be able to stand it. I thought longingly of monasteries and their contemplative services.

Maybe I haven't written much poetry in the last week because I have felt increasingly jangled. I've spent more time cooking, which is good--a retreat into the quietness of the kitchen. On Wednesday, I made a recipe from The Splendid Table's How to Eat Supper, Oven-Roasted Chicken Cacciatora (page 202). Unfortunately, I can't find it online. It was so delicious that I made it again on Saturday--after all, I had left over sausage and sage and an extra bell pepper, so why not?

And it's easy, once everything is chopped. Put chicken in the 9 x 13 pan, dump a bunch of stuff on top (canned, chopped tomatoes, chopped red bell pepper, chopped red onion, chopped Kalamata olives, diced hard salami, some wine, some olive oil, torn sage leaves, some fennel seeds), throw it in the oven to bake. Yummmm.

I made it on Wednesday, because I've had a chicken leg and thigh in the freezer, the kind of leg and thigh that I hold up and wonder about the humongous size of the chicken. It seemed like a good recipe to use up that cut of meat and a chicken breast. On Saturday, I used boneless, skinless chicken breast, because that's what I had on hand. It would be a great recipe for those times when the grocery store puts chicken thighs on sale, though.

I need to write a poem or two this week. I need to get back on track. I need to keep working on soothing my jangled nerves so that I can hear myself enough to write.

3 comments:

Dale said...

I've wondered, sometimes, whether the deciding factor in my becoming a Buddhist was simply that you can get some peace and quiet in a Buddhist temple. Christian services are so loud and busy and officious! They even pray for you, for heaven's sake, instead of letting you do it for yourself. I'll never forget how startled I was when a minister said that we would now pray -- and then *went on talking*. He meant, he would now pray, and we'd all follow along, I guess.

Kristin said...

I've been feeling a similar pull towards Quakers for the quietness factor.

Kristin said...
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