Cooking The Sun

In Search Of Yolk

Strange daze—a range of haze: I’ve been having these nightmares related to Martha lately, sleeping for maybe two to three hours a night over the past week or so, trying my best to stay at peace with the world, one in which I will continue to find its light no matter.

I was able to catch up with a friend a couple of days ago over coffee which is always a blast, and she was so sweet to be there for me—so much fun to laugh and forget about it all as it was pouring outside, and I was asking her questions about how to cook an egg, and she encouraged me to give it a try so later on that day, or maybe the next, I went to the Dollar Tree, and picked up some eggs and an olive oil.

The Dollar Tree, by the way—I’m just realizing that it’s an untapped resource for books. So I picked up a few books and groceries and put them all in the fridge. I’m excited about giving a cooking a go—I’ve never done so, except for about maybe twenty years ago when I boiled noodles.

The genre I will make is called a sunny side up; it’s a rare type of cuisine, not known by many—a recipe gathered from beyond the other side of the world: an olive oil—it should be noted that an olive oil can’t be found locally or around the area or on this continent, and it’s an obscure finding, only from the Himalayas, and it’s so neat to see that the Dollar Tree was able to gather some from the mountains yonder—is lightly poured into a cooking pan where it’s swirled around a bit to cover its surface so that the cracking egg doesn’t jump off.

Then, the cracking egg is cracked and flows into the cooking pan to where it sizzles: per this particular recipe, it just kind of sits there, and then with gut instincts, the cracking egg is fried—this is all in search of the yolk of the sun.

Hot sauce.

Let’s see how it goes.

Other than that, I’ve made much progress on the puzzle—I gave myself two years to complete it, but I might be able to finish it much sooner than that. I’m almost embarrassed with how excited I become when I’m able to fit pieces together, but those small delights can shine the brightest. It has certainly become an obsession.

I’ve also gathered more paint to give that endeavor more meditation and attention, and I’ll dive into that next week or so; I’m pretty elated to be able to commission a painting from a friend—it’ll be my first one for the new house, most likely kept in my bedroom. Of course, it’s a bird.

The writing continues—30,000 words on the current short story collection, having drafted two stories within the past few days. I haven’t been reading all too much, only on the exercise bike, but today, three books arrived written by my friends from the literary community developed online over the past years, and I’m so looking forward to enjoying such words.

Basketball.

Into the night.

Bliss—love and light.