Yard Sale Mandoline


From the beginning of me, there was writing. In the earliest years of grade school, I would make little books of stapled-together printer paper and construction paper. They’d chronicle life’s great experiences (Malerie Goes to the Zoo) or communicate love (My Mom and I), complete with illustrations. As I grew, I kept journals in speckled Mead notebooks, sifting through my concerns and crushes, through questions big (“why would a loving God let ______ happen?”) and small, though still wrenching (“does he like me?”). I studied journalism in college, and worked my way up to the EIC position on the campus newspaper, though anyone present could tell you planning a wedding took most of my focus that year… poor Solano Tempest. A few years ago, I started this blog as a new-millennium outlet for my insides. I process my feelings through writing. I often don’t fully realize what I think about something until I get it out of my head and onto paper or these days, a screen.

But I haven’t been writing. For the last couple of years, I haven’t been doing it. Some days, I hop out of bed with mind and fingers tingling, en route to the office with Things To Say, but the mental to-do list takes over and I turn around, head downstairs, and Accomplish Things instead.

I’m not cooking less. I’m not gardening less. I’m not encountering the best and worst of humanity less. I’m certainly not thinking less. But I’m not writing about any of it.

I think there’s an element of fear to the idea of letting thoughts out of my head, and of sharing them here. The last couple of years have been full of beauty and new adventures and so much love, but they’ve also held hard times, unsettling questions, an upsetting medical diagnosis, and big loss. I think I’m afraid of what will come out if I let my fingers loose on the keys. I’m afraid maybe I’ll be a little too honest. I’m afraid I’ll be honest and no one will care. I’m afraid I won’t be honest enough and all that’ll be here are some pretty good recipes. Most of all, I’m afraid (and damned tired) of being afraid so often.

I think, though, that it doesn’t matter. I need to write. It doesn’t need to be “good.” Plus, there’s this quote I often think of, by someone for whom I actually don’t care at all but who said at least one wise thing. This may be a paraphrase; I didn’t look it up: “When an opportunity comes along that scares me, I take the opportunity in order to defeat the fear.”

So I’m going to do it. I’m going to say I don’t care whether you read it, but really, I’ll be a little sad if you don’t – perhaps because of my generation’s social media-centric, verbal barf, look-at-me culture, or perhaps because I think I have Things To Say.

In the meantime, here are some photos of the food and garden life to which my gentle readers have become accustomed:


A wintertime treat from the freezer: sour cherry einkorn muffins!


Beautiful grapefruit – canned in segments in their own juices. I can’t get enough grapefruit.


pH strips have helped me get over the fear of killing my loved ones with botulism. Yay.


I’m growing horseradish, you guys. It’s really pretty.


Local, organic, seasonal, artisan, fair-trade, nutritious spring vegetable quesadillas.


Mojito mint, left to me by a friend who moved to Rhode Island. Hooray for summer drinks!


I wasn’t a fan of enchiladas before these bad hombres. The sauce is blended up with tons of peppers and spinach from the garden.


Sprouts! I sprout sprouts now! These came from French green lentils and have graced several meals.


Here are the above sprouts on a quinoa-spinach bowl with a backyard egg and tahini sauce.


The first radish of spring. The variety is “red head.”

This entry was published on May 13, 2017 at 8:23 am. It’s filed under Collection and tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink. Follow any comments here with the RSS feed for this post.

3 thoughts on “Unfiltered/Untitled

  1. Malerie,
    I get all the fears, I really really do. Write anyway.
    It doesn’t matter why or who does or doesn’t read it. Write anyway.
    Your thoughtfulness and gentle, hard won wisdom come through.
    Also if I lived closer I would give you my grocery money and eat at your house. Or sit on your porch steps and fight the chickens for scraps.
    I don’t know if the world needs your voice or not although I suspect it does, but I certainly do.

    Liked by 2 people

  2. Thank you, Mal! I’ve loved reading your blog. Love your honesty. I’ve the same, sort of, reasons for avoiding writing, at least on my blog. Sharing my thoughts can be a bit too invasive for this introvert. And, my thoughts are all over the place, hard to be explained or shared.
    I miss you and Joe. 🙂

    Liked by 1 person

  3. I can relate to this very much. Having too much to say can be more paralyzing than the opposite. I am also less free with my thoughts in this era of everyone jumping on a slight social disagreement with current accepted idea. People have become “famous” for the most ridiculous reasons and then publicly shamed with serious consequences. Kinda stifles the creativity.
    I love the way you write and the observations you make though, so do not stop.

    Liked by 2 people

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