dammit

i want to make minestrone.

in order to make minestrone, i need to buy zucchini.

i don't want to leave my apartment.

i also don't want minestrone without zucchini in it.

decisions, decisions.

creation

as usual, i'm running a story in my head at the moment. Tálvi is a horseman of the plains; Maranwë is a scholar from the western mountains. Tálvi's people keep no written history, so tonight while i was making soup, she asked him to tell her his people's creation story.

this is what he told her:

In the beginning there was chaos. Within that chaos woke Aesil, who in her hunger devoured the maelstrom until all was dark. So fierce was her spirit that she birthed herself from the darkness as both male and female, to have the strength of each. Her form was that of a great black horse bearing a brilliant white star on her forehead.

The darkness displeased her, so she tossed her head and from that star created the heavens. She ran through the sky exulting in her freedom, but in it there were only night and stars. Soon she tired of its sameness, so she stamped her foot and created the land.

In her impatience she first made mountains, tall and jagged and cold as the stars, and her breath froze upon them and became the snows of the North. Angry that she could not run there, she stamped her foot again and made the West. This land too had mountains, but these were burnt and blackened by the heat of her frustration. When she breathed upon them she made a torrent of rain, which softened their peaks as the water flowed downhill, creating great rivers and lakes.

Her fury spent, she stepped softly to the South, where there arose rolling hills. She ran through them for a time, breathing soft rain, and the water followed her tracks, becoming a long, winding river. In the warmth of her joy, the land sprang to life and became green and lush. But the trees grew so tall she could not run through them, and so she walked to the East, where she rested on the ground and wept in her sorrow.

There she slept, and dreamed of a perfect land. There would be sweet grass and cool water, and no trees or mountains to block her way. There would be both heat and cold, light and darkness in equal measure. When she awoke, she knew what she must do.

As she rose, her tears flowed into the hollow where she had lain and became the ocean. She turned again toward the west, and in the center of all made a new land, just as she had dreamed. Gentle streams ran through its soft, rolling hills, which sprang gold and green with tall grasses.

She knew now that she was not meant to run on the land. She made herself quicken, and gave birth to two black foals: Hákon, whose forehead bore a white star, and Ljúfa, who bore a crescent. Hákon tossed his head, and his star became the Sun, and Ljúfa's crescent became the Moon.

Hákon and Ljúfa were happy on the plains, but in the sky Aesil grew discontent. She asked her foals to bear her a grandchild, but they refused her, wanting only to run and play. She decided they needed companions who would befriend them and teach them to behave.

And so Aesil made the first man, Áki, and Dísa, the first woman, and sent them to the plains to teach her children. They were the first Riders, and became the ancestors of us all. And to this very day, Aesil runs through the heavens, watching over her grandchildren.

Or at least that's how my father told it to me.

and with that, he blushed self-consciously and retreated into awkward silence.

p.s. the soup was very good.