I’m still trying to come up with something to write about for Saturday’s writing group to the prompt, COOKING. I finally decided that the reason I’m struggling so much is because I don’t really enjoy cooking. Not only that, but for the life of me, I can’t come up with any childhood or other tender memories where cooking is at the center. Cooking, for me, is something I do because I have to—kind of like blow drying my hair in the morning. I don’t particularly enjoy it, but it has to be done.
During the years when I was working, cooking was a hurried thing tacked on to the end of a busy day. When I retired I went through a fairly long season of enjoying planning and preparing our evening meal. I got creative with recipes. We ate better—and healthier—than we had in years. The novelty has since worn off.
There are so many other things I’d rather be doing than cooking. Preparing for the dinner hour interrupts other, more important, activities like writing, reading, and pretty much anything else. I don’t like having to come up with ideas every. Single. Day. Honestly, I’m over it. Give me a writing prompt of CANNING, and I’m right there. But COOKING? Not so much.
I’ve either got writer’s block or I’ve just dug my heels in. It can’t be the former because I write every day, so I guess it’s myself getting in the way of myself. The countdown is on and it’s getting louder every day. Think, Linda. Think.