A Home Cook's Journal of Tastes & Morsels
It isn’t that everything is simple; it’s just that sometimes things are much simpler than we anticipate. Allow me to point out the obvious and state: I have made a lot of poppyseed things lately. You’re welcome. I picked a date on a calendar. I set up my phone to e-mail and text a reminder:…
My dad would have been 69 today. Who knows if he would have made it this far? There is always something. You know, you start to watch the way the light hits things differently over the course of a period of time. That might be the most prominent thing in my experience of this blog.…
I did not think I was rude to the woman at the call center. The phone screen reported: 27 minutes, with ticking seconds. I was still at work, and I would be, until much later in the evening. To be fair, I stepped out for a little while. Aiming to stop at home, I weaved…
I made cookies and then I smooshed ’em and I swirled ’em into ice cream. I dolloped that with sweetened condensed milk frosting, topped with more of ’em, crushed. I suppose that isn’t all I learned to do over the course of this most recent revolution around the sun. What a life. Oats and peanut…
Pre-Post Script: It is most likely that, if you are reading this, the following is not about you. Staying honest, I had never heard of Bill Smith until his name showed up before the words, “atlantic,” “beach,” and -the real eye-catcher- “pie,” under my thumb. Wasting time on social media. It starts with an ampersand,…
Pretend you identify as female and you own a romper with underwires. They poke and prod. They do not bend. Your move. There is a place in the fabric where you can see a little bud. Do you leave it? Do you tug. And when you tug, don’t you feel better. Nothing gets to state…
Memories of other things. Spreadable. Applicable. A friend says, It is what it was. Breath on windows. Chilly nights, the telephone. Pointer fingers. Secret messages spelled in fog. I am a prism and you are climbing a tree. Sacred space with only goodness because it is time. A little pinch of warmth. Sweet cardamom freckles…
