What's to cheer except weather? Indigenous Peoples Day coming along when many (most?) students are free from school (perhaps not the best way to put it).
The season also breeds more interest in cooking, with the dark creeping in stealthily and earlier each day. This affliction of mine - a hobby, you might say - takes over when I must face the fact it is really addiction. The reasons why I cling NYTimes Cooking so much are many but doubtless in this 'older age' (when doesn't the term apply?) I am reminded of the importance of pleasure in a fulfilling life. Of the need to be distracted (lest the body speak up with an uncertainty), sure of at least one routine: following a well researched recipe, (NYT is tops at this for sure) - a sense of security there I think, though no certainty I will have good results. I simply am not patient enough, and unwilling to think about the importance of proportions. Dividing the usual four person amount so that just one is satisfied: resistance to having an extra step and the sure thing I will then feel cheated. Oh how deep can I go with this subject: the practice/hobby/whatever forces a person to concentrate and thereby less prone to mindless wandering.
Plus, at least with NYT, so much learning is involved and sometimes stretching of the mental muscles brought about by reading a well written formula just like reading a deceptively simple aggregation of knowledge (the NYT both digital and print) and intelligent use of language. At the root of it all, I now believe, is a compulsion for order and for belonging. Why not in sharing recipes with unknown recipients of NYTImes Cooking newsletters, etc.? Bonding with strangers, engaging in a 'fruitful endeavor' that might produce some satisfaction of sorts...depending on willingness to comply with the rules. I seem to rush through the occasion, holding back any sense of triumph when I'm seldom satisfied.
Realistically, what emotion I felt upon the completion wasn't/isn't the point. THe point was to finish the job, to 'have done something' and momentarily stave off a sense of hopelessness and singleness. When company is about, I go in the opposite direction: too much worry over outcomes, being judged, etc.
Ah, the forever anxieties we can invent for ourselves.
-------------
Not so the friend of mine who decided, upon becoming suddenly by accident a widow - a truly horrible shock. She created her own partial antidote to the feeling of loneliness that followed: by deciding to not spend a lot of time alone, knowing that otherwise depression might take over her life. She volunteered for a host of activities (an old habit she had anyway - so she just increased the kind and number). An acquaintance mentioned working behind the Travelers Aid information/help desks at the airport. In this case, Reagan National - a biggie where security is super important, given that it is US politicians' main entrance and exit to the city. Congress calls the shots here, along with Homeland Security, and other agencies of rank overseeing sensitive vulnerable public arenas. (SEE NOVEMBER)
To be front person for strangers requires a wealth of training and, once hired, no money but free parking (supposing enough spots are free) and the promise of feeling good while helping others. Such people - there are eight desks at Reagan National alone - get backup security if they need it: the emergency button only a finger away behind the desk. It takes patience and savvy to know whom to call if a question or stumps one of them. My friend regularly handles busy Sunday evening shifts when passengers are returning home or taking late day planes.
A sense of humor can be useful: Seeing a Security sign warning passengers they would not be able to go back through the entry leading to departing planes, a woman asked if that meant she would not be able to go back that way upon her return home. "Don't worry," my friend said, easing the woman's fears. "They let you get back into the city."
Such is the nature of life in an international city where the word culture also can apply to particular and unusual habits and behaviors (and experiences) that are germane to that city only.
