I’ve been stuck in a sort of whirlwind. I did promise that it would be quiet around here, while I’m in the eye of the storm. And it has been. But of course, the outside of the storm has been unruly, taking things down in its path. That sounds rather vicious, but it’s sort of how new beginnings are, aren’t they?
I toyed with the idea of abandoning this blog completely. Terrible thing to say, isn’t it? Who would want to read the words of someone who isn’t committed to her work, right? The fact is, life is in full swing and life gets in the way of life when it’s like that. But maybe that’s why it needs to be recorded. There is beauty in the banal, but that’s not all that I want to remember and record to be sure.
I hope to be here more often. To write more words. To take more photos. To share a bit.
I sent my husband this link earlier this week, with a note: “Should we train for this next year?” Added to the life list, which is a revised and ongoing version of the resolutions. For all that I hated the distance of the half-marathon, I really like being outside and exercising and pushing myself. It’s just that 21.1 km of running is about 6 more than my body ever wants to do.
Meanwhile, summer is here. This tart is the best it has to offer. I made it for a going away party. I made it for my birthday. And to take to a friend’s house the day after my birthday. It is so delicious that I made it twice in one weekend, even though I could have made anything else. Because I couldn’t have made anything else. It is summer at its finest.
This is she. I didn’t change a damn thing. Except for the occassion when I doubled the marscapone cream filling and the berries for my birthday. It’s worth doubling up on occassion.
P.S. I promise to come back with recipes and other stories soon, but for whatever reason, the interface where the writing part of this takes place is being naughty. It makes it unejoyable to say the least.