Frustrated on the phone in response to false advertisement and customer service that can do nothing to solve my problem, I find myself in tears, gnashing my teeth and ready to strike at whoever crosses my path. My skin feels raw from betrayal and the slapping wind outside. I wish for the hiss of the radiator to return.
It’s well into fall now and everything feels older. The crispness that freshened the air a few weeks ago is now colder. Relationships are stressed with growing pains. Making outrageously overpriced holiday travel plans remind me that the year is nearly done. I wonder where it went, how I spent my time, how I spent my money… did it all go to air travel? Another twelve-pack of months nearly empty and I recline in my drunken stupor wondering at my position in the swirling fall of leaves. I sit and seethe.
To soothe my soul I yearn to create and open the refrigerator door to see what I can possibly do with my vim and vinegar. Bitterness, so often neglected, is perfect for preservation.
I volunteer the always-philanthropic masons from their shelves to sterilize and wait their fate before bringing anger, pettiness, resentment and regret to boiling. Keeping my mixture steaming and bubbling it almost overflows with animosity before I pepper it with insults. Heatedly I dish it out until nothing is left. Then, put a lid on it. Bottle it up. Save it for another day. Allow the feelings to steep and fester and cool, though I know some day soon a crisp biting comment will make its way to the surface.
In the dark and cold sour servings wait to resurface later. Later.
***Need somewhere to store your resentment? Sock it in these spicy radish pickles (no cooking required for these but you can shake the blank out of them!)***
foodandmen 