On gingerbread cake.
For the winter solstice this year, I baked a gingerbread cake. It came out pretty decent though not quite as gingery as I’d like. The effort caused a flare and I spent the rest of the day in bed. I don’t think I’ve ever really marked winter solstice before but recently, I’ve been looking for small ways I can anchor myself to nature and the sense of bigness in the universe. My memory frequently happens in fragments, especially when I’m sick, especially with the near-constant flares I’ve had this year. Little anchors help me feel real, remind me that I have a body that’s capable of doing things, feeling things, that aren’t just pain. They allow me to acknowledge the calendar outside of crip time, so I don’t feel like I’m fading completely out of existence.
I baked a gingerbread cake on the solstice, and I still have just over a third of it left. A combination of being too poorly to eat it the last couple days, and not being able to share as much of it as I’d hoped. In this way, I can count the days passing and bring the fragments back together. Time and memory never become whole—I never feel whole—but there is a comfort in baking a cake (and remembering how much peace it used to bring me) and acknowledging that each day is now a little longer than the last (that we’re hurtling into a new year, new seasons, new dire weather events).
I feel fragmented, a jangling bag of grief and pain and effort. I don’t want to look back at my year—I feel afraid to—but I know that’s what makes it especially important to do. This year has had a dramatic and weird end to it, and I need to take some time to dwell on the joys and anchors from the last twelve months instead.
On my kitchen counter, there are two old bananas, very brown and ready to be turned into banana bread. I have the recipe on my phone and, in fact, wanted to make the same thing with two other, older bananas several weeks ago. I couldn’t manage it then but maybe I’ll be able to now. Maybe I can make another anchor for myself, one to mark the totality of this year, a fragment to unify all the others. It won’t make me whole but maybe I will at least make some cake.
stuff I did this month
For Sidequest, I edited this piece by Michelle Caldeira where she reminisces about the messy, meaningful Christmases of her childhood, and the impact of the Dreamcast on her life.
I also edited a list by Zora Gilbert and Madison Butler that recommends games to play if you’re looking for your anime fix between seasons of Mobile Suit Gundam: The Witch from Mercury.
stuff I liked this month
Until January 4, you can watch Films From Iran For Iran at Another Screen. I can’t recommend this programme enough (at least one of these films made me cry) so please consider donating if you’re able to.
This is the gingerbread cake recipe I used. I am mostly proud that I finally managed to not fuck up a vegan cake.
I went from having zero raccoon mugs at the start of December to ending the month with three, in all different styles. This is absolutely a highlight of my year.
Heavy Machinery is written by Zainabb Hull and powered by electric blankets and roast potatoes.
Like my work? Buy me a damn fine coffee.
