Miss Identification

It's a New Year and I'd rather not address the old blog. I'm not sure what happened but somehow it turned into what I enjoyed about other people's blogs (aside from my irregular posts) and I began writing for an altogether different reason. A month passed, then another one and by the third month, what can you really say to a handful of readers? I'm sorry? I've been living a life, adjusting to a new home, and doing what I thought I wanted? All the whilst, the truth made me uneasy.

A household is a strange thing.

So, I began putting together a photo essay for the old blog: late summer ratatouille, Sunday morning buttermilk pancakes with berries (and always, always with real maple syrup), risottos, potage parmentier (who did not make that at least once this last fall?), peanut butter cookies, pumpkin carving, and even my various cups of coffee and tea. See? I was busy, in between greedy bites of life, and all of that. But somehow, it felt like having lunch with an old boyfriend, one you might have had some good times with but weren't particularly keen on seeing ever again. What can you say to someone about an old life? It's been great, but see ya?

So, it's raining here. And the 405 was partially flooded enough to stop traffic. It was so odd to head north and not see a single southbound vehicle for a long while. Until this. A Porsche stuck in the opposite carpool lane and a fireman perched on the divide. Kind of like me. Perched on the divide. But, I know which side I'm landing. I've identified it. And the cloud has lifted.

Bonne Année!

Happy leaping!