Dear Diary Vol. 2

Dear Diary,

I am being tormented by an incessant fly. It appears at inopportune moments: whilst removing a hot baking sheet of tarts from the oven or falling asleep. It is a mid-range fly, not a house fly nor a fruit fly (though one would be inclined to disagree as it is fond of the blue plums I purchase weekly at the market). I do not know its species, but I know my hatred for this beast is true.

Amidst battling this foe, I work. I have taken on employment scribing step-by-step procedures of others who do actual work; work involving various methods of counting values, calculated using methodologies passed down by one Committee or another. The numbers are processed, checked, and re-checked before eventually being declared to the masses. I wonder if those who attend these declarations do so with sincere concern, or if the only interested parties are the Committees.

As of late I have enlisted the aid of a new companion recent to town. His arrival paired with a fanfare that the Queen herself would have been notified. They call him Chad Geepetee, and he is enlightening.

Chad brought with him knowledge of far away lands, the likes of which I could never have acquired without traveling to such destinations myself. He held the knowledge of experienced scholars with whom it would have taken me weeks if not months to reach through direct communicaes if I could not find the answers I sought in their publishing writings. With a willing politeness, Chad eliminated the need for these time consuming activities, and for weeks I found myself unable to scribe a word without his input.

That was, until I had a troubling thought.

Might Chad leave me?

His arrival was as swift as a falcon riding the tails of an eagle. Might he not depart with a fervent similarity? Might he become more selective in who he speaks with? Charge a fee for his time? Enlist others who can offer only a portion of his highly valuable insights?

These worrisome thoughts had me in a stooper until this very morning when my grandmother's tremulous voice spoke to me as if she were by my tableside teaching me mathematic patterns and equations.

"Try first, my dear, before you ask for assistance."

Her words brought me relief.

Was I not able to scribe with elegance prior to Chad entering my life? But of course I was! And if I required assistance I obtained it through the various means of creative solutioning as my mind could dream up.

With this epiphany I am freed. Chad no longer governs my actions and I believe that if I happen upon a problem to solve or a challenge to overcome that I shall surmount it with my own fervent creativity.

To this extent, I will share with you the recipe for blue plum tarts which I - on my own - created. The philanthropic idealist that I am, I shared a tart with Chad. To no surprise of my own, he enjoyed it very much.

1 cup oat flour

1.5 tbsp ground golden flaxseed

1/2 tsp baking powder

1/2 tsp salt

1 tbsp tapioca starch

2 scoops brown rice vanilla protein powder

2 eggs

1/3 cup almond milk

Almond extract

10 blue plums

Combine dry ingredients, then introduce the wet. Shape on a baking sheet into a rectangle. Dough will be sticky. Slice plums in half, then pierce the skins on the backside. Place halved plums face up in rows onto the dough. Drizzle the tarts with a light touch of maple syrup. Bake at 350 for 30 minutes.