carrot fennel soup, coming to a cookbook near you in 2013.
I should not be here right now. I don’t mean the “being here” as in the bigger philosophical question of life. I mean really, there’s a book, a manuscript due today. So far there have been 93 pages written. Over 100 recipes tested, written and edited, with a lot more to come. 30,074 words have been strung together so far, in a coherent manner I hope, to form a cookbook.
There is still more to be done, but I found myself here this morning, watching and waiting. I woke up and felt thankful for the sun streaming in through the bedroom windows. I went down to the kitchen to start my writing day, and have been too pleasantly distracted by the birds singing in my neighbors’ backyards. I miss my own yard, the one we used to share back at our old place.
I remember when we started our apartment hunt 14 years ago. We saw over 40 places, and when we walked into the one that would become our home, the one to which we would bring our daughters to after they were born, though we had no idea we’d ever have children—well, the moment we walked in there we just knew. It was love at first sight, even with the living room walls painted pink—I’m not kidding. The kitchen had animal heads resting on the cabinets.