Mid morning on Monday saw me hit a wall. A deep lull set in and I found myself staring out the window contemplating my existence. I was overwhelmed with everything; I felt like I was having a life dilemma. This afternoon and the same thing: What's the point of it all? What's the meaning of this terrifying, busy and exciting thing we call life? WHY ARE WE ALL HERE?
I stopped that though. I calmed down. I regained my equilibrium (as my Mother would say). I clicked. I was extremely tired because I had spent the previous four nights on the "not" end of the sober-spectrum. Day by day the memories returned and it all, sort of, started to make sense.
I rediscovered my love of Central Otago Pinot Noir with one friend before meeting another at Duke Carvell's. We talked and talked over a bottle of Riesling and delicious tapas which included a flaming ouzo cheese (not actually that delicious - too salty, and a hefty $17) and amazing gnocchi (full of cheese, and $9). I found the menu smaller and not as great and more expensive than last time I was there in December, but it was still a really fun night and I still rate it as a place to visit.
After work, I drank lots of beer and ate lots of extremely spicy chicken wings and stumbled all the way home making drunken phone calls.
My flatmates and I went to a fancy dress flat warming in matching polar fleece pink heart covered onesies, amongst other things. Wine, gin and beer were obviously required.
And on Sunday:
Three out of four of us cooks were hungover for Pasta Sunday; luckily the talented Mr Stanley, who was at the kitchen-helm, was the one who restrained himself the night before. It was a grey, cold and drizzly Wellington Sunday, and we busted open the first bottle of red at about 3pm. We fed 16 people five courses of amazing fresh pasta, and had a few cheeky mugs of Mulled Wine.
With this film reel of hazy memories rolling back through my mind, it dawned on me that it was no bloody wonder I was feeling a bit blah and was too tired to get excited and was contemplating the meaning of life in a very melancholy kind of way.
To remedy my situation? Well, I've been to two kickboxing-type gym classes in the last day and a half. I've rewritten my list of current goals. After buying too many groceries to comfortably walk home with, I sweated up a storm overloaded like a pack horse before making myself crispy-skinned salmon and sesame soba noodles with a bucket load of vegetables for dinner. I've got friend after friend after friend visiting over the next few weeks when there'll be plenty of fun to be had.
I've also just taken two beautiful banana cakes out of the oven, having unashamedly licked the bowl clean. It's this recipe from this lovely blog and the very ripe bananas were from a box labelled "Free Bananas - Help yourself!" at Lambton Goods (a small mini-mart on Lambton Quay, where you'll often be served by a guy whose babies my friend wants to have). The cakes smell delicious; one will be taken up the country with my flatmate's little brother who is on uni holidays, and the other I will try and avoid eating at all costs.
I'm feeling much better. I've chilled out, and reminded myself I can do it all, I don't have to decide anything right now except whether to ice the cakes with chocolate or lemon icing, and in the meantime I'm taking the advice of the blackboard at Aro Cafe.
Happy Tuesday. And, whilst not putting any unnecessary pressure on myself, fresh pasta feast will be blogged next. Promise x