02/04/2005: "traffic cones."
I spent a lot of this week being really frustrated with an article I was writing. Rewrite after rewrite. Deleted sentence after deleted sentence. Every time I got mad, I went to the kitchen and made something, anything--its complexity varied depending on how the piece was going. Sometimes it was something small, like salad, or ginger tea, but eventually I got so annoyed at the article that I ended up making a three-course dinner. When I ran out of things to cook with, I went to the kitchen and crushed cloves of garlic with the side of a big knife, because it's something I know how to do, and I always know how it's going to turn out. Not so with writing. Writing's weird.
In the end, though, it all turned out fine. I not only had a finished piece, but I had an amazing tomato sauce. With plenty of fresh basil. And garlic, of course.