Ten.Seven Hundred & Fifty-Two
-
Forgot the alarm again.
-
Blueberry cornmeal muffins. No coffee for me but I make a pot for him then gather what I need for the chai.
-
The smell of orange, cinnamon, cardamom, clove, and ginger.
-
The girl makes one for herself with frothy whole milk and the oldest boy puts his over ice. I don’t know if I’ve made enough.
-
I think of how maybe it won’t be a loss but a gain. That I’d gain whatever it is that a normal life feels like. How there would no longer be a need for any kind of performance. How I could just cook and just read and just make what I wanted, when I wanted, without attaching anything to it.
-
I always scan the cookbook shelf.
-
There are so many cows to name.
-
I go back to the grocery store for more olive oil because I feel compelled to have an aioli for these potatoes. I’m making quite an elaborate meal for a regular Wednesday. But any day can be a special day, right?
-
He puts the slice of peach on his fork and then adds on the arugula/basil/goat cheese for one big bite. He gives me the thumbs up. “Only because of the peach!”
-
Random things that catch you off guard like your tween son watching “Fixer Upper” of his own free will.