So the thing she wrote that got me thinking this evening is this:
"Cooking is a way to make sense of my days, and to make something beautiful of them. We all find ways to do this, I think, whether we are conscious of it or not."
That's good. I know just what she means, and I think you probably do too. I think running -- rather, exercise in general -- is the most regular way I make my day beautiful. Gross though I look (and smell) during and after, workouts cap my days, however trying, with something worthwhile. I sweated 18 buckets. I ran 3 miles. I tested my heart for 45 minutes. It's inelegant, and certainly less romantic than cooking, but it's mine.
Secondmost is probably cooking, or baking. The satisfaction of producing something more than edible sets me right. I remember coming home after an especially difficult day at work, a day where my post-work treadmill session failed to get the stink off me. I walked into the kitchen and set to work, and whereas Cam and I usually soux chef for one another, he just let me go. And when I produced a sustaining, even tasty meal, I felt better. Finally. Something beautiful.
Beyond that, I dream of other ways. Regular blogging. Better photography. Actually listening to my massive record collection. So how do you make something beautiful of your day?