in blogland, cooking, musings 0 comments
Being a blog like this, which depend on an inspiration about home, colours, life, nature and design, it can be tiring to come up with things to write. I am not like blogs around the world who jump on another blog’s wagon; ending up parroting the content of the myriad other design-esque blogs around. I like to blog about how I am making my world lovelier, one room, one chapter, one teacup, one cake, one table… at a time. Something I discover, something I stumble on, something that truly inspires me.
And sometimes, sometimes, there’s just no inspiration about. Nothing happens that excites. Nothing out of the ordinary-mundane. And other times, life deals you hard times. And in pain or misery, we want to curl up into a ball rather than talk about it to total strangers. (The Internet/social media is already full of people who are so ready to tear you apart.)
It’s not a writers’ block, mind you. It’s just a period of living–be it hours, days, weeks, months, years–where life plods on.
Then sometimes you happen to make a last-second turn into an op-shop (thrift store), wander through looking for the “thing” you grab off the shelves and dish out a few dollars for, knowing it was such a find.
I drove on home, in glee. Hannah was in glee as she’d discovered some bear clothes for her collection. I was in glee because I’d found a milk glass cake plate.
A glimmer of inspiration.
I made a brioche loaf. Only took me two days what with proofing. I have more respect for commercial brioche makers who have to employ someone to drop in a cube of butter 5-10 minutes at a time. Phew. But it was so good kneading the dough, watching it grow. Knowing that at the end I’d have one awesome brioche to smother in yet more butter.
Somehow, that small out-or-ordinary-ness lifts the uninspired block of time…
Please bear with me (and all the other bloggers) who have to fight UnInspiration to bring you fresh, new content all the time. Please bear with our amateur photography and our amatuer stories. I’m so sorry for my periods of silences.