Wordy Wednesday

Have had it in my mind for some many days to make peanut sauce. It should be a simple, straightforward task. Walk into the kitchen, as it were, cut up an onion, put things in a pot, cook them, you know. So I thought I would do that, some days ago, because dinner time arrives at regular intervals. It seemed like a reasonable idea. But then I didn't sleep on Monday night, because of some nefarious attack of the devil who thought that I should lie awake considering the many troubles of the world, rather than sleeping at all. And then just as I had beaten that back with many prayers for myself and the world, because I am that holy, or rather Jesus is, so that the devil has no, or at least only a negligable amount (is that heretical? I don't know, I was awake a really long time) of power over me, Marigold climbed in my bed and snuffled loudly and persistently so that I finally, and this will be a great shock to many, got out of bed before. I. had. my. tea. I know! I know! Matt found me down bumbling around the kitchen at 4:45 trying to fill the tea kettle and dropping loud pots onto the floor. Turns out it takes water a really long time to boil. I probably knew this before but I don't make tea any more. Matt or Elphine make it. I sit in a chair and say, 'Elphine, go make some tea' and she does. So anyway, it turns out I had time to unload and reload the dishwasher in the time it takes a kettle to boil. And then, waiting for the tea to steep, I had time to descend into Sheol and put in a load of laundry. That was too bad. Finally collapsed into a chair and drank the elixer of life and thought I would blog for a while. Sat staring at my screen for what seemed like four or five hours but the clock indicated only 7 1/2 minutes. Felt really discouraged. Eventually found myself sitting in Bible Study and was able both to listen and paint my finger nails a bright red. Came home and did a long long day of school. Did all the subjects. Suprised both myself and the children. Made an actual lunch. Had coffee with a nice friend and held her fat placid baby. Felt really happy. So then, having defeated the power of satan and fatigue over the course of one really really long day, warm with the glow of God's providence and mercy, went calmly into the kitchen to make peanut sauce. The onion, the pot, the cooking. It was all there. Chopped the onion. Grated the ginger. Sweated it in the nice new pot from Christmas. Added chicken. Lathered peanut butter all over it. Dislodged a block of frozen stock from its container and chunked it in. Stood around and watched it melt into a golden bubbling smooth sauce. Added a whole lot of salt. And then, like a blithering idiot, fatigue and confusion filtering through my mind into my rosy nailed hands, I took a whole lemon, made Marigold sit up on a stool and hold a strainer, and squeezed the whole wretched thing in. You know, because it needed a touch. So I just stood there and squeezed and squeezed until there was no lemon left and the sauce, this golden beautiful sauce, tasted entirely and completely of lemon. Wandered around adding everything I could lay my hand on, to cut just a tiny bit through the endless lemon. Added more peanut butter, cream, more peanut butter, salt, more cream. Thought better of tabasco, although I'm pretty sure that would have been perfect. Finally gave up and plunked it on the table, only to destroy the top of my table by putting it down straight down with no pad or anything underneath. Poured myself a modicum of jewel boxed wine and gave up. Went to bed and slept really really really well.