If I were to offer you any unsolicited advice worth taking it would be: live in a city with a sandwich.
Now if you’re smart… you’ll live in a city with multiple sandwiches. Top of mind that means that the most successful living takes place in both New Orleans (for its po’boys and bless-ed muffulettas) and Philadelphia (for its cheesesteaks, truly important roast pork sandwiches, and for the way people in Philly pronounce hoagie more than a hoagie itself… ya feel me?).
I’m often surprised at how often I have to redefine what balance looks like to me. This week was no different. Sometimes balance requires more yoga, sometimes less… way less. Sometimes balance involves more Oreo cookies, less time with the computer, and more walks along the river.
Speaking of the river, our great Mississippi: It’s been high this week – reminding us, as though we’ve forgotten, that she’s in charge.
We can stack it high and chocolate frost it. We can top it with candles and light it on fire. We can slice it large and eat it greedily. Heck… we can bake it in a paper cups and still call it a cake. Bundt it? That’s as fine an idea as any.
What’s so deeply glorious about cake is that it signifies an occasion, grand or otherwise.
The Japanese magnolias are in bloom in New Orleans, making the city even that much more magical! I love these blooms.
I managed to tick every task off my to-do list this week and I’m rewarding myself with some very chill and restorative crafting this Sunday afternoon. I’m thinking something along the lines of this jean embroidery from Honestly WTF.
I’ve been thinking about those of you in that monster snow storm and I hope today finds you with light and heat and all the coffee and hot breakfast you need.
My Sunday offering follows:
• We all have our blind spots but you can trust me when I tell you that I am very very smart and very very creative.
There’s a short list of things that I can eat by the gallon full and I’m here to swing my arms in the air and tell you this is iiiittt! Rice pudding. Hello, sweet lover.
There is divinity in the simplicity of this dessert. It’s rice – double cooked with sweetened milk, stirred to thickened, stirred until you’ve worked yourself in a trance. Spooned into generous portions and chilled with patience.
It’s been a wallop of a week for me between exciting work projects, trying relationships, and deeply sad family loss. I’m hoping that this Sunday offers a settling of heart, mind and body for me and… while I’m making wishes for myself, I have the same hopes for you. Essentially, I hope we all can just sit down and close our eyes for a spell.
Putting this post together is one of my favorite tasks in a week.
I’m not going to tell you that these are the world’s best oatmeal cookies. I won’t tell you that this is the only recipe you’ll ever need until the end of time. I’m not going to tell you that I’m omg obsessed or anything like that.
I will tell you that I was trying to re-frame cookies into my everyday life. What’s the cookie that I want to eat everyday, any time of day, with hot coffee or cold milk?
I was just sitting here thinking of the maybe one time I’ve gotten chocolate and flowers on Valentine’s Day. If it takes more than 7 minutes to locate a possible memory like that…. well, it probably hasn’t happened. Ok. No problem. The beat goes on, doesn’t it?
Here’s one thing I can easily locate in my memory mind, the last time I bought myself flowers – the Thursday before last. And the last time I bought myself chocolate – every time I go to the grocery store.
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