It’s raining outside. A slow, miserable drizzle. To say the weather reflects a human’s mood or has human qualities (“miserable”) is what we literary-buffs like to call a “pathetic fallacy.” Literary Analysts observe this. Creative Writers often shun it as a cliche. But today it is appropriate. I am miserable. I’ve had a nasty cold for two days. I’m facing massive anxiety over some recent life choices of mine. And this. What we all woke up to today. My heart is too heavy to even write about it except to say that it must be nice. It must be nice for all of you who backed you-know-who that you enjoy such privilege as to be unaffected by his hateful rhetoric, unthreatened by his proposed policies, and unshaken by what this means for our country. I wish I had such privilege. I know that this is a cooking blog, but it is also a blog about my life. About our lives, Mr. Foodie’s and mine. And this is not how I thought we’d start our married life together. We face the loss of affordable health insurance which Mr. Foodie desperately needs because of his asthma. We face the overt discrimination that will become more and more common because Mr. Foodie (and soon I will join him) carries an Arab surname. And like all millennials, we face increasing costs for living without corresponding increases in pay. We face starting a family in a world where I might lose control of decisions concerning my reproductive health. And we continue to face the xenophobic, racist, misogynistic, abelist, heteronormative, hateful rhetoric that has dominated this election cycle, but worse – because soon it will stop being rhetoric and become our new reality. I don’t even care if I lose some readers (or friends, or family) because of this post. I have to say what I’m saying. This is my life. This is our lives. And it’s fucking raining.
Oh yeah, and I made some new cookies yesterday.