We walked in the snow to Cliff's, a local breakfast haunt that I suppose people tolerate because there's nothing better around and they don't have the ambition to drive to Parker's or the Scotch Pine Farm. I had a leaden, dry pancake. The coffee, I'll admit, tasted good in a necessary way -- not in the way that I had any sense it was a decent cup.

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Last night I made griddle cakes stuffed with white cheddar and jalapenos and plantains stuffed with spinach. Both were okay: first time making them so it was a learning experience.

I marinated some pork tenderloin overnight in a pomegranate marinade and cut it into strips for my breakfast this week. I'm going to divide the up so that I can wrap them into tortillas and eat them on the ride into work.

I also cooked mushrooms for lunch and topped them with a reduction from the pork dish. Right now, I'm marinating chicken breast, cut into thirds, in lime juice and peppers. That will be the daily protein and I'll broil that some time this evening.

For a quick snack, I made a slit in two jalapenos and stuffed them with the remaining cheddar before broiling them in the toaster oven. I topped them with a light sprinkle of sea salt. Simple and delicious.

Other than that: writer's block. Staring at the blank screen, trying to work on the novel. Hanging with the cats. Watching the snow fall white onto the street and the cars below.

Maybe I'll just read some fiction and hope to find inspiration there.