It was the kind of week-end where I hear about the travel plans of neighbors and feel a weird sense of emotion. It's not envy, exactly. They're taking a 10 day walk across England, 7-8 miles a day, carrying everything they need on their backs, following the same path that the pilgrim's in Chaucer's Canterbury Tales traveled. They are at least 10 years older than I am, maybe 15. It's the kind of plan that makes me wonder if I should retire/work less now rather than later. But I am not sure we could make this kind of trek now. For one thing, the long airline flight to get there is a dealbreaker for me. And my spouse would need a very flat route, and he would need to do some training to be ready for even a flat route.
So, not envy, but the kind of feeling I have had so often in my life, wondering what is wrong with me that I don't want what so many other people seem to want. In the above paragraph, it's vacation plans and bucket lists. I look at the larger culture, particularly the desire to have the latest cell phone and hours to spend scrolling, and I don't feel like something is wrong with me. I do worry about the health of the larger culture, particularly when I stumble across particularly disturbing information about what tech is doing to our brains.
I organized a cookie tasting for our neighborhood group, and I tried to make a recipe, pecan sandies, from childhood. As with the chocolate chip cookies I've tried to make, the butter seemed to melt outside the cookie and fry it. Not untasty, but not the memory of the cookie. And there was that distressing moment when I said, "I can't cook anymore." A ridiculous thought, but a distressing one.
Yesterday, though, we had great success making pizza with cast iron pans. Before putting them in the oven, I turned the burner to medium heat for 3 minutes, as recommended by this blog post from King Arthur Baking Company. It was the first time since being in this house when we've had a good homemade pizza. My usual experience is to go through all the effort to make homemade pizza, only to be left with a mess of a kitchen and a blah pizza and a yearning for pizza from somewhere else.
Yesterday as we ate pizza, we watched the recording of the Sunday worship service at the National Cathedral. The service was beautiful, and once again, I found myself observing a strange mood evolving in me. There was some nostalgia for the year I spent in seminary, where I went to the Cathedral occasionally. I felt nostalgia and wistfulness and sadness for a time that is gone and won't be coming back. I felt fortunate to have had the experiences and the opportunities and at the same time, I know what I had planned to do with that time in the city and the ways I fell short. I tried to keep focused on what I did manage to do.
When the worship service was over, we switched to Saturday Night Live snippets, so it was easier to manage my mood. And then it was off to bed; I've been going to sleep increasingly earlier, and I feel like I need to get back on a more reasonable track.
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