Pork chops with cherry sauce ... and bacon.

Because, really, when is one kind of pork ever enough?

We adapted the Real Simple Pork Chops with Cherry Sauce recipe as follows: fried up some bacon first, drained on paper towels, and cooked the pork chops in the bacon oil. Then, when plating, put the pork chops, then the bacon, then the cherry sauce on top.

I don't think this is at all good for your body, but it'll do wonders for your soul.

Unless you're a vegetarian.

My MFA creative thesis is DONE. ((thank god))

My creative thesis, "A Manual For Landing: Short Fictions by Mayumi Shimose Poe," is DONE, yo. Being a little short on words at the moment, I leave you with my preface:


WELCOME



This will not prepare you for crashing. This is a manual for landing. Before the assault of humidity and color and smell. You have crossed oceans and continents to be here, but you can put away your passport. There is a place for you in this world. Let me take you on “a bender of language.” Welcome. Please, come in. Your visits keep us afloat.

The long-delayed year of the custard.

[insert some major triumphant trumpety noises]

As if it weren't enough that I finished my creative MFA thesis this week, Dave and I also conquered the custard. In this case, a garlic-spinach-shiitake-green onion chawan mushi (adapted with many liberties taken from Mark Bittman's recipe). Bittman suggests that while custards are not difficult, per se, they do require a definite learning curve.

Learning curve THIS, baby.

Them beauties came out golden and silky and delicious.

Crème brûlée? YOU DON'T STAND A CHANCE.

Ihatethisverymuch.

Revision: it's like driving with only a learner's permit, during rush hour, in a foreign country, with the steering wheel on the other side and the traffic lanes reversed. To cheer myself up, I think of Philip Graham: "You say ... you don’t know how to write a short story, or how to write at all. Well, neither do I. And thank god for that ... I hope you never learn how to write a short story. You’ll be all the better for it.”

The beginning is in the end.

And so, scarily enough, the MFA begins to draw to a close and the drafting of the thesis ensues.

[INSERT TOTAL FREAK OUT HERE. HOW DID TIME GO SO FAST? WAAAAHHHH, PLEASE FLUNK ME AND KEEP ME ANOTHER YEAR! OR, ACTUALLY, DON'T FLUNK ME BECAUSE I CAN'T AFFORD ANY MORE SEMESTERS.]

All freaking out aside, I am really proud to stand right where I am at the moment. I have a thesis, people, with five (longish) stories* I've been smacking my head upside for two years (and in one case, ten), and them stories have been put through the wringer, and I love them like small children. Small children that I hope will now go into the world and take care of Momma.

---

* I have really tried to write shorter, but like an opera diva knows her passaggio vs. chest vs. head voice and the range in which she is most comfortable, I've learned (a) that longer for me is better and (b) there ain't a damn thing wrong with that fact. Just makes them fictions harder to market.