When I hit a bump in my novel writing yesterday, Word Raccoon insisted we make a Stanley Tucci recipe instead. Not one we had planned, of course, but one we’d have to scrape the ingredients together for (or leave the house, which… it was cold, so no). She perused the internet and found a quick cook recipe by Tucci for Bolognese, meant for when you just have to have it ASAP.

Since WR was trying to clear space in the freezer, and since Tucci had mentioned using frozen “mince” in the book we were still listening to, and since WR had some hiding in the freezer along with some sausage, she started yanking out ingredients and told me to get to grating.

I should say that I’m not typically a big fan of grating. Like, you have to pay attention, and well, when your name is pronounced dream-uh, as you can imagine, you have dreamy tendencies, not something you ought to have while grating.

But onions, carrot, cheese… grating happened. I refused to grate the garlic and made do with finely dicing it. Hey, I use these fingers to type, WR. They must be protected as much as possible.

(I had a garlic press, but it was garbage, so I tossed it.)

I won’t keep you in suspense: the grating went fine (ha ha), and the recipe came together while we continued listening to Tucci’s second book. If you’ve read it, you know there are a few things in there that make your eyebrows shoot up, which arguably makes it more entertaining.

After I grated my life away, I reminded WR that one of the large burners on the stove was not working. I had put in a “work order” but had heard nothing further about it.

(Actually, Stanley-not-Tucci had been the one to clear his throat and announce to Word Raccoon that making Bolognese and penne at the same time might prove difficult, given the burner situation.)

While I had several solutions that would have done the trick, WR told me to shove over, and before I knew it, that brilliant raccoon had re-seated the burner. And darned if that didn’t solve the problem.

Huzzah!

(I thought I had already tried that, but apparently she knows more about such matters than I do.)

Before you come at me for using penne: the idea of this recipe was to turn over the pantry. And also, I heard Stanley (Tucci) read that he himself had turned to penne in a pinch.

So there, Stanley-not-Tucci.

While it took a bit longer than projected for the tomatoes to simmer down and cuddle up to the ground beef and sausage and veggies, it did eventually happen.

Ooh, and I didn’t mention the best part: I made it in my PINK DUTCH OVEN I WAS GIFTED FOR CHRISTMAS! It’s smaller than my others, so it’s lighter, but it’s big enough for most recipes. I’m in love. 

Did I mention it’s pink? 

But I digress. 

After topping the penne with the sauce, I just dusted it with freshly grated parm.

Done and done.

Barry declared it one of the best dishes I’ve cooked lately.

Perhaps you’d like to hear more about the problem with the novel, yes?

First of all, if this entire post has not told you, Dear Reader, that there was a knot in the novel and it made me run to cooking for a creative outlet, well, then I guess I have not done my job. This post is also procrastination. Obviously.

Well, in part.

Last night I achieved a goal I’ve had for quite a while now: making a reading nook in the bedroom. Finally the dresser was moved, I carried the rocker over, put the vintage floor lamp in place, moved the Italian-style art to one wall, switched the French-style art to the other, and all that is lacking is… the sign I found this morning and had forgotten I ordered.

It says: Read More Books.
In neon.

Raise your hand if you think, nay, know that Word Raccoon ordered it?

Now, the issue is that the corner doesn’t have electricity, which will mean running an extension cord. Also, the neon sign needs a cube to plug it in. I found one today while sorting, so half solved.

I found other things while I was sorting, sentimental items, but let’s put those in our mental storage bin, shall we, just for now?

I returned to the novel today, even though yesterday both Word Raccoon and I were vowing to never write again. Not one word. Not fiction, not poetry, not, gasp, even a blog post.

The mood didn’t last, but we did let the thought pass our minds.

It was because a character opened up in the novel, and then that meant another character had to see them as a whole gosh darn human being, and no, WR does not like that. She wants to play god with her characters (though she doesn’t admit it, not even to herself), even though she knows it’s not only cruel and dumb to imagine you can, but also fruitless. What’s more, it’s the opposite of acting lovingly, and even villain-adjacent characters (I don’t believe in villains) must be treated with respect and an attempt to understand them must be made.

So WR and I softly reentered the novel today, apologized to it, and asked it if we could try again. It shrugged, but we took that as a yes.

We added very few words today, but we took the time to understand what was already there, which matters when it comes to world building.

Oh, and we brought cookies for the novel by way of an apology. That probably helped.