Dough!

Whew. Such a week. 

I’ve been in a constant state of correspondence.  As a would-be restaurateur, most of my days are filled with emails, phone calls, and meetings.  In between correspondence, I’m talking to my 2-month old.  When I’m not talking to him, I’m talking to my dog.  And when I’m not chatting with somebody or something real, I’ve got a non-stop inner dialogue running in my head.  For fun, I sit at the piano and come up with lyrics that rhyme, and then I sing them to the air.  

Prattle prattle prattle.  Chatter chatter chatter.  Blah blah blah.  This wordsmith HAD IT with words. 

By Saturday morning, I thought I was going to lose mind.  I either needed to find speechlessness, or I was going to bust.  

And so.  With one million things that needed to get done, with one million words I could go on speaking, with one million reasons to be productive, I shut down.  I completely set aside everything and everybody.  I strapped my baby to my chest, and in an act of desperation, I did the only thing I knew would restore calm and quiet the noise. 

I made dough. 

The dough eventually gave way to soft pretzels.  But that didn’t matter.  The act of stirring flour and yeasty water together, kneading it, watching it become a ball, letting it rise, punching it down, and rolling it out…pure sensory experience.  No commentary.  It completely reset my brain.   By the time I was done pulling the last batch from the oven, I felt like myself again.  

I’m reminded of this all the time, but I feel like I can’t reflect on it enough: we absolutely must break from the racket in our heads.  We can’t be our best selves if we don’t.  Whatever gives you this break, Reader, I hope you too are taking time for it.   You deserve it. See you back here next Sunday. -Em 

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