I have multi faceted approaches to dinner and socializing. Though I love for a well planned dinner party, I my true love is the “what do you have, I have ________.  Let’s put them together and call it dinner” dinner party. Tonight’s was especially gorgeous. A last minute detour Saturday to the Farmers Market left me well stocked with heirloom tomatoes and strawberries. K’s fridge full of left overs, copious burrata and pastry knowledge rounded out what was the perfect summer meal.

  

  

  

  

  

  

I have this backlog of stories to tell from the last 6 months. I got fired from what I thought was my dream job (it wasn’t), met my soulmate(s) (I’m an eternal optimist/hopeless romantic. This is a dangerous combination that leads to unfulfilled expectations, heartache, and ice cream consumption.) Then I floundered, threaded water, found dry land, and had some fun. But I haven’t really written about any of it and I think that’s because I know the “why” of most of what happened but I’m not sure I want to talk about it yet. Once it’s written, there’s a record, and if there’s a record doesn’t that mean it’s in the past? And if it’s in the past, well, then isn’t it time to move on? 

So here I am, ready to make a public declaration that I will write more because what else do I have to do? Maybe that was a cop out, okay…

I will write more because I need to write more. No better reason. 





Cold is an understatement…



Beau kicked off the baby boom of 2015 





Awkward courtroom experience…

I think talking about breakups is embarrassing, like admitting failure or tripping and falling with an audience. You just want to play it off, however inadequately, and move on as quickly as possible. 

The ghost makes this process much harder because you can’t ask any questions! The other party, excuse my stereotypical adjectives, was a pussy. To quote Taylor Swift “Was I out of line? Did I say something way too honest, made you run and hide. Like a scared little boy.” 

Or you want to talk about it incessantly. Because disecting every moment of the time you spent together, re-reading every text and scrutinizing every interaction you will find an ANWSER! There is no answer besides he is a jerk, but you will require at least 4-6 weeks of this talking, initially daily and eventually, hopefully for the sake of your friends and loved ones it will slowly peter out.

I’m still avoiding telling my story, because, how embarrassing!

For now I will say I should always know better when a pickup truck is in involved.

why do I listen to silly rules about when to sleep with someone, when to call, when not to call, when to text, what not to text but choose to ignore what is arguably the best dating advice ever given? In the works of Carrie Bradshaw “am I a masochist?”

also discovered today, the best way to cure a romantic “burn” (we won’t call it heartbreak, there weren’t as many feelings or much time involved… Or for that matter…) is cooking, talking, coffee, Wegman’s samples, whiskey, cookies, and sushi. And maybe pizza. (Yes I am still counting points. It is not pretty…)

dieting is for sure the most difficult and challenging thing I have ever done, save for dating. attempting both at the same time is extremely hazardous and not for the faint of heart.

is it better to call the asshat and not eat a half a pizza? Or do you eat the pizza and ignore the asshat?

It’s hard for me to believe this song was written before cell phones/texting anticipation