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Change. I've learned to embrace it, ride it out til the end. Sometimes I'm kicking and screaming, other times weeping with my eyes clinched tight. Once in awhile I ride like a dog in a car, head out the window snorting what life has to offer. Mother to young adult children, a marriage of thirty years, and a desert to mountain to valley waltz with God have shaped me into someone I never imagined I'd be. Life is short and I want to live it. Tears, sighs, laughter and change. Every morsel granted to me. Scrambled, shaken or stirred.

Thursday, July 15, 2010

Scribbles and Scrambles ~ Don't Forget to Burp the Tupperware









The personality stew and the implements that keep it moving continued....and the storage container lid is snapping into place, or the end of the kitchen tool/personality profiles.

In my non-scientific research I discovered that I really began to understand the basics of the personality/temperament types and how the body fluids represent them, especially when I could wrap a kitchen tool around it, over it, under it or through it. Of course, the theories have been rethought and retooled for a few hundred years, and tinkered. But to my knowledge I'm the only one who has turned them into kitchen tools.

And as far as kitchen tools go. No cook, basic or gourmet would really have an equipped kitchen without the wire whip, the crock-pot, the 9 x 13 and the skewer. Oh, they are not necessary for all meals, most of the tools are not needed for most meals, but they all come in very handy and are staples.

As are the personalities.

We need each other. The diplomatic, peaceful 9 x 13 phlegmatics are slow to start but essential for roasting, baking and providing life's basic foods and they need cholerics and sanguines to infuse a little passion and enthusiasm into their lives. And phlegmatics are necessary to keep the melancholys from sliding into the dark depths of inner crock-pot stewing despair. What sanguine doesn't need a straight speaking choleric to shed a laser beam of light on a situation that can help them to focus. And the melancholy without an occasional dose of sanguinty can produce a stew that has such concentrated uck that life can become unbearable for those who love them. And without a helping of comfort food from the phlegmatic to ooze a little peace into the stab wounds from an out-of-control choleric skewering, the world would be a painful place. And without the melancholy, there would be a lack of rich and beautiful items that take time to create, and creativity to blend into dishes that enrich life and add beauty.

Bon Appetite.