‘It’s Been A Week’ Avo Toast

When you are tired (perhaps of everything)

-and all of it collided a little bit after days of piling-

so tired, you thought, “It’s been a life,” when you typed, “It’s been a week.”


is when it is time for toast.

/ sourdough beneath salty, limey avo cream / itty, red specks of aleppo / yellow curls of lemon zest / taupe hemp heart discs / green onion rings / golden pools of olive oil /

Mountains are mountains. Rivers are rivers. You’ll climb if you have to, and you’ll wade if you have to, and you’ll melt through the wave when it comes.


Coffee Blondies

I want the quiet, that slow drip

through wet paper. Grounds. The kind of exhale that makes a soft, little noise. It just doesn’t matter very much, really.

Sugar and butter make caramel on the stovetop, fragranced with soft drops: tablespoons of lukewarm coffee. You won’t totally notice, really. But it’s there.

Pecans and mini chocolate chips.

Patting down goop.

Forgetting for a moment you might be reached. In the expanse of your own space, filling and emptying, until


get up, get down

The timer, and out emerges a transformation: blonde and chocolate, nut and perk, crisp edged and melty.

I can’t help myself.

Chocolate Truffle Cookies [gluten free]


“Sometimes the one who is running from the Life/Death/Life nature insists on thinking of love as a boon only.

Yet love in its fullest form is a series of deaths and rebirths.

We let go of one phase, one aspect of love, and enter another.

Passion dies and is brought back.

Pain is chased away and surfaces another time.

To love means to embrace and at the same time to withstand many endings,

and many many beginnings-

all in the same relationship.”

(Clarissa Pinkola Estés)

Happy Valentine’s, whatever kind of beginning or ending or beginning again you’re experiencing. ❤

Creamy Roasted Carrot and Red Pepper Soup [vegan, gf]

Just remember

that the things you put into your head are there forever, he said.

You might want to think about that.

You forget some things,

don’t you?


You forget what you want to remember and you remember what you want to forget.

(the road)

Burrata, Persimmon, and Caramelized Onion Pizza

They arrived. Shaped like a tomato. Plump, coral rounds with thick, stiff leaves.

this is [the most wonderful time of the year]

/ prosciutto ribbons, rendered fat / thyme-y red onions cooked down in their sugars like jam / then,

creamy, white burrata plop!

Steam, fresh out of the oven to meet chive confetti and shaved parm.

We made it past all the rest of it. Nowhere to go but where we are going, you know.

Thank goodness there are persimmons along the way.

Pumpkin Gingerbread

Lately, I have been actively seeking more information related to interruption. It’s fascinating, really.

Research (here and here and, more broadly, here, to start) shows that women are interrupted significantly more frequently than men are, and that men are significantly more likely to interrupt than women, and that men are significantly more likely to interrupt a woman than a man.

Interruption. [Excluding confounds like a (sometimes, but not necessarily always, because that can be gaslighting) scenario-dependent, operational definition of the term, and also the whole binary thing.] It can be a great – but super lame – tactic to subtly exert dominance over the person you’re conversing with. Even if the conversation is about nothing.

*You are genuinely impacting their ability to add to the conversation by doing so.
*You are preventing them from completing their thought in conversation form.

Though the articles I have been reading have pointed out several interesting and also dishearteningly gendered facts, I would like to point out something else that I learned: the significant interruption of women studied did not always observe that the interruption of women came from a man (here). This is to say:

We interrupt women. We interrupt them.

Recently, I met someone new who made an assumption about something I was an expert on. As in, it was something that happened to me. This person unfairly bombarded me without even the most remote understanding of what the situation was. We had just met. I politely listened to what they said. When they finished and I went to respond, a finger was lifted to silence me. They grabbed their phone and they told me they had someone they needed to speak to. [Sometimes, I am very tired.]

Sometimes, cake doesn’t resolve exhaustion. However, it does always add to a given situation. And we generally always allow it to add to.

Warm molasses goop whisked with pumpkin and spice wafts warmth from the oven, straight out of which, it meets cinnamon-tinged glaze. At room temp, the icing crackles under the pressure of your fingertips and your lips.

Perhaps I will shove this cake into any interrupters’ mouths from here on out.


Extending well wishes to you and yours this season / sending love, especially if you need it, and even if you’re an interrupter (I guess). ❤

The Winter Playlist 2017


I do not love you as if you were salt-rose, or topaz,
or the arrow of carnations the fire shoots off.
I love you as certain dark things are to be loved,
in secret, between the shadow and the soul.

I love you as the plant that never blooms
but carries in itself the light of hidden flowers;
thanks to your love a certain solid fragrance,
risen from the earth, lives darkly in my body.

I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where.
I love you straightforwardly, without complexities or pride;
so I love you because I know no other way

than this: where I does not exist, nor you,
so close that your hand on my chest is my hand,
so close that your eyes close as I fall asleep.

(pablo neruda)

/ it was not until i let myself love the fullest that i could give myself the space to heal /

(and to love again)

i wish the same finds you when you need it most. if it is this time – with all its lights and show – then i hope you are ready when it arrives

because i am sending all i can to you, too [stay warm] ❤