Tag Archives: Raisins
For the past three weeks, I have dreamt about the inside of a house. It is not just any house, it is a mansion, a schloss in Bavaria, I decided. Outside the floor-length windows in the main hall, it s always purplish, cloudy dusk over snow-covered, black, rocky mountains. I see the northeastern view. A gallery runs around the inside of the hall, separating first from second floors, but I haven’t seen the stairs. Curiously, the walls are either plain dark wood paneling or whitewashed plaster. Different people I know from my current life have appeared in my dreams there. I don’t know what it means, other than it’s some sort of mashup of the pirate feast and SCA events and Nosferatu and Carmilla.
Though it is now full-blown Lent, I’m sharing my Mardi Gras luncheon because there’s nothing about it that’s sinful or off-limits in the fasting and abstinence sense, as far as I know. I can and will go on at length about how food is not “sinful” and should not cause guilt. Food is neutral. We bring the guilt as a side dish or a sauce. We also have the ability not to partake, but instead to enjoy our treats or what-have-ye mindfully and in appropriate-to-ourselves amounts.
On Tuesday, one of my bestest buds from high school invited me to a Fourth of July party in D.C. and she requested that I bring “some food or drink to placate the gods of freedom and democracy.” However, I couldn’t use the stove since the gas burners have electric starters. As with this episode last year, I took the Metro to my brother’s apartment in order to sleep and make cereal bars.