You should probably do something (maybe set an alarm, write a note, etc) to help remind you that you have a sweet potato in the oven baking for tomorrow’s lunch. I know that you really got into that movie (the Help, for the record) and you weren’t thinking about lunch for the next day. You’re really lucky that the house didn’t burn down. You’re lucky that instead of smelling like ashes and smoke, the house smelled of sweet, delicious, orange potato. Way to leave the oven on all night. This is not like you. I will excuse it this time.
Self aka ELS
Weekends at home remind me of where I came from. They remind me where I might want to end up again someday. They remind me that some of my favorite things to do are some of the most simple things: eat dinner with my parents at the dining table we’ve had since I can remember, have a sleepover with my best friend, visit the local watering hole and be greeted by old friends and acquaintances. Home is a constant for me, something I can rely on. Something that I can count on to stay generally the same while all else around me changes and moves and swirls. I can count on the newest issue of Better Homes and Gardens to be sitting on the coffee table in the living room. I can count on the blankets and pillows on my bed at home to be perfectly soft and just the right amount of fluffy to feel surrounded and cuddled and safe. I can count on my favorite kind of tea to be in the tea cupboard because my parents know it’s my favorite and they take care of me far too well.
I am incredibly blessed.
…make Chocolate Beet Cake. And put some Blood Orange Cream Cheese frosting on it while you’re at it. A recent, anxiety-inducing, unexpected event has taken place in my life and this cake was the product of one of my more emotionally stressful days. I found it therapeutic, baking that cake. Therapy for the senses. Listening to the subtle sizzling of the beets roasting in the oven, the smell of cocoa powder sifted into the mixture of dry ingredients, the gorgeous deep red hue of the batter. Sometimes the best thing to do when you don’t know what else to do is corral all the energies you have floating about you and pour it into one task. You might make a cake that ends up leaving you with morsels of time and taste. Morsels packed with earth and sweet nourishment and gratitude. Grab a fork.
I’d love a little snowfall before the big day. Just enough to make it feel cozy and warm inside. Enough to make the world seem still and quiet when you walk out your front door. Enough that when you listen hard enough you can almost hear each snowflake gently settle onto the ground.
I am ready for my oversized sweater and fleece lined boots.
Let the fizz settle. Let it settle ’til all that’s left are a few tiny bubbles, floating on the surface of your golden tinted portion.
“For my yoke is easy and my burden, light”, He spoke with such eloquence.
The colors of fall burn on.
shades of salmon and robins egg blue (reminiscent of dad’s old ’69 Mustang)
a broken camera
2 “Impossible Pies”
a fantastic stay at home
the beginning of the Lenten season
sweet potato pie
wearing green for St. Patrick’s Day (which I unfortunately spent in bed)
the first day of spring
rosemary olive oil cake
a fundraising dinner for my dear friend, Teresa, and the Doula Project
babysitting my darling nephew
seeing a childhood best friend in the traveling production of Wizard of Oz (he was the Tinman. Isn’t he handsome?)
finished reading Chocolat and Black Heels to Tractor Wheels, both fabulous
and today is Harry Houdini’s birthday