I am Verklempt

Forgive me as I type this with my thumbs. This isn’t a post about food, but this blog wasn’t started about food really. It had started as a place where I work out some of the crazy shit going through my head as I navigate a career change.

This may be a bit meandering. I  started to compose this in my head on the drive back to a friend’s New Hampshire cabin. . .alone, except for my trusty sidekick, Jethro the dog. That’s him on the right.

As my friend and that pup on the left departed, I was overcome by the moment. There wasn’t anything significant about saying goodbye today. I intended the weekend as a last hurrah with a few friends before I headed off for two or three months of seclusion on the west coast to focus on book research, writing and motorcycle riding. As the weekend approached, our numbers dwindled down to just two of us and our dogs. So, instead of a ‘hurrah’, the weekend turned into a time to relax and contemplate.

We capped the weekend with an outdoor picnic. As they departed, I realised I would be holed up far, far away ‘researching, writing and riding’ in less than a week. ‘Research, writing and riding’ was merely a stated premise for my obsconding for months 3000 miles away.  The time and distance was also meant for contemplating my unknown future. Perhaps making it less unknown. Or just less scary.

And, as I watched my friend and her pooch drive off, I realized I may never be here again. Not in the literal sense. Physically, that might be possible. But, in a metaphorical sense, I had no idea what I would figure out over the next few months. I was emotionally overcome, choked up and feeling a bit like weeping. I was indeed, verklempt.  (It’s a phrase made famous by Mike Meyers on SNL’s Coffee Talk skit. Look it up!)

Shit suddenly got really real. No longer a mere little career change. Career change? Ha. That is a plain term for something that is either a forced reality born out of unfortunate circumstances or a fanciful choice to pursue a ‘dream job’. Which perspective depends on whether you can afford to do it out of whimsy. I used to be able to afford it.

What’s happening grewbeyond the confines of a career change.  My whimiscal, affordable, unfocused pursuit of ‘career change’ morphed into a total life change. A choice through my actions, but not by design. The rug came out from under me. The water is merky. And the road ahead is riddled with forks and turns…and probably snakes or bears or spiders or some other clearly terrifying unknown obsticle.

Some background for those still reading who have no idea what the hell happened. While I’ve been posting the pretty pictures, the recipes, the food stories and the do-it-yourself lifestyle bits, the sometimes beautiful, sometimes messy and sometimes painful realities of life rarely touched these archives.

Cancer happened. A nephew was born. Chemo administered again and again. I received a degree. Cancer killed. . .murdered. . .in slow, ugly, painful ways. I started great jobs then left them as they became shitty. And my closest relationship slowly deteriorated.

Suddenly, I am untethered. Its hard to peg down what the future holds. What’s ahead feels surreal. It is hazier, foggier – more nebulous –  like a roll of paper extending out in front of me with only fuzzy, undefined images. No one beside me, in front of me or behind me. I had parents, no partner, no homebase, no home, no anchor. Nowhere to land when all helter skelter hits. There are characters – friends and family- sure. It’s not desolate, but they are in the periphery. This weird path is mine, alone.

I am prone to puncuate the inflection points of life by doing something remarkable, exciting and totally unreasonable. My untethered mind landed on the idea of riding two wheels across the country on the open road.  A whimsy so ridiculous it does not do anything to resolve this riddle of my future. It’s a distraction; short term thinking. It’s ignoring the disaster of my ill-conceived midlife crisis to just be even more outrageous and ill-conceived for a bit. Perhaps this idea is a metaphor for how my unteathered brain feels.

I’ve never ridden a motorcycle. My memories of riding a dirt bikes as a kid are fuzzy. My brain likely co-opted those from my brother and tried to convince me their mine.

So, with that impetus, while overcoming a terrible flu, I found myself in a parking lot with chattering teeth in the soaking  rain and wind of a spring Noreaster astride a motorcycle taking my first motorcycle lesson. It felt real, not fuzzy. That’s a start.

That was a month ago. In five days, I say goodbye to my Jethro for at least the next few months. He too is a kind of ungraspable image in the future. My trusty sidekick might be verklempt himself if he knew what was up. I know I am.

More to come of this and the next few months are likely to be less and less about food.

In the mean time, happy cooking (and researching, and writing and riding)!