I’m not eating all that much right now. I “eat” mostly organic protein drinks, soy milk, and portions of plain chicken or shrimp. Why? I need to lose weight, and until I see a doctor (May 1st) who can help me understand what my various eating disorders (anorexia, bulimia, compulsive over eating, and orthorexia) have done to my metabolism, and test me for thyroid issues, and refer me to a nutritionist, I really can’t eat like a normal person or I gain weight at an insane rate…

Now, I’m not saying that to launch into a sob story. I’m just saying when I don’t eat much, I love to cook even more than usual. LOVE it. And tonight is one of the last nights for a while I can cook for my brother. He’s having his wisdom teeth removed on Friday, and I’ll be gone tomorrow night, and he’ll be working late Thursday.

So I made him dinner. Roasted beef tenderloin steaks with roasted shallots and a beef broth and port wine reduction, and herb-coated roasted potatoes. (I’ll offer him a salad too, but he might be too busy eating Man Food to bother with vegetables.)

It smells amazing, I feel like such a “real” cook, and there is just something about cooking good food with a lot of care and effort and love that makes me so happy. It is so satisfying about feeding and nourishing someone you love. I reap great personal rewards from being the source by which my loved ones can meet this basic human need.

I don’t really know why, I just do.

And I take pleasure in the art and the skills I have honed over time. I used to be a terrible cook. Utterly terrible. But I’ve gotten so much better (hell, I cooked the tenderloin steaks, shallots, potatoes, and the reduction in a perfect sequence so they are all going to be ready at the right time. I know, it’s not rocket science, but I love how effortless that has become for me.) And I am so determined to master many more styles and types of cooking.

But the overwhelming feeling I’m having right now? The one that trumps all others, and has been an obsessive thought for the entire night?

I wish I were cooking this for Antonio.

In related news: Long distance sucks.

As of posting, I’ll be with him again in 43 days, 19 hours, 16 minutes and 9 seconds. And when I’m with him, I’ll have 6 days and 45 minutes to just drink him in. Well, slightly less, because I’ll have to leave him to go through security at the airport…

(Not that I’m counting or anything…)

God dammit, I miss him. It just aches. I ache.

This wasn’t meant to be depressing or anything, it’s just a bit of musing. And… I guess a small plea. To everyone who has any sort of long-distance elements of their relationship, got any tips for handling it?  Like, good ones?

Because, more than just missing him, I find myself being a mild bitchface (at the time, it’s always “about” other things), to the point where I actually go silent and ruin time we do have together to talk. I curse myself over it afterwards like you wouldn’t believe (or, actually, I’m sure some of you would). I just WANT him and his attention and the littlest things make me so touchy, and that desperation for HIM and longing for HIM makes me such a moron…

Ergh. Grrrr. Argh. *other pirate noises*

Help meeeee.