As you may have noticed, I’ve been really scattered for the past 6 weeks. On top of moving back to the US, we did not have reliable Internet at our apartment in Barcelona for the last month. I felt like I spent a lot of time cooking, but no time actually being able to write or read about it. I am working hard to change that situation now that we’re settling into our new apartment in Brooklyn.
I successfully made my way back over the pond just in time to have Thanksgiving dinner with a bunch of friends. Since our apartment here wasn’t quite ready yet, we held a potluck at a good friend of ours and I made the turkey. Most people that I talk with get anxiety about preparing a turkey but, while it’s not that I don’t get that same level of anxiety, at a certain point I turn my “to hell with it” on and just get going on it. I wanted to make the turkey and I’ll do it.
True story, the only time we had a poor turkey experience is when I tried to order one from a place that claimed they were “As seen on Food Network!” Not one, but two, pre-cooked TV-famous turkeys turned out to be totally raw in the middle (and the flavors were too strong). Trying to avoid a horrible turkey disaster nearly caused one. The outcome though wasn’t a ruined day; it just turned into something else. A day spent with friends drinking wine and eating everything else. It’s still talked about as the perfect Thanksgiving and we didn’t even have a bird.
This approach isn’t just how I think of cooking turkeys; it comes close to how I feel about how I approach most obstacles in life, including my entire experience in Spain this year. Once I decide that I need to do something, I go mad with research, get anxious, and then at some point I reach the moment where something has to happen. I always want to be the person that moves forward. After all, what is the worst that will happen? I’ll get to make a good time out of a rough experience. I hope that my life is always blessed like that and I’m thankful. This allows me to be an optimist and a pragmatist simultaneously, if that is possible.
That all being said: I miss Spain. I miss the people that I was just starting to get to know and I miss the atmosphere. How good it felt to walk for hours and get lost there the way I used to get in New York. I, of course, miss the food and the tiny nondescript places to eat and whittle down some hours. I miss feeling comfortable not having a defined sense of direction. Taking in the moments of my time there.
That sense of living in the present is something I want to get back a bit. I’m finding it difficult because I’ve met my goal. I moved to Spain. Once you’re done with a goal, where to go to next? I’m finding it hard to focus since this adventure, while amazing, didn’t really work out to plan. That is life though – laughing at me for daring to make those silly plans in the first place, I suppose. I am happy to be in bed in Brooklyn, writing about reminiscing. There I go being indecisive again, trying hard to live in the moment yet still looking for the next adventure so that I can feel comfortable doing exactly that.
I can’t wait to get back into the rhythm of cooking, now back home in Brooklyn. It’s nice to be back.