on bridges, babies, and balla-balla recipes

Let's start with a few of my favorite things, shall we?

The fog over the Golden Gate Bridge

Mon amie's new baby, Elena, so precious and tiny and gorgeous and perfect and delectable

 

Watching the World Cup at City Hall

The Palace of Fine Arts

I'm constantly writing stuff down. All the time, on napkins and notebooks and nonsense, and then later I find all these scraps and scrawls and I have no idea what any of it means. Was this a book, a movie, a recipe, a band? Usually I can figure it out, but sometimes it remains a mystery. I like to think that someday all these snippets will be combined into a montage of my life and mounted the length of a city block. It will say big things about me, important things, it will reveal things about me that are currently unfathomable. It will say 'dementia.'

The other day when she was in New York, my favorite roommate Sara hung out with her good friend and one of the greatest chefs ever in the history of the planet, Shuna Fish Lydon. (Shuna Fish Lydon!) I blog-stalk her, I pretend like I'm going to try her recipes, I call her 'Shuny' while we're out getting pedis together. In my head. And when I found out Sara was meeting up with her during her recent trip to New York, I made her swear she would get a recipe for me--written on a napkin and signed and EVERYTHING. And SHE DID IT! When I got home from North Carolina and saw the lovely napkin on my desk with it's perfect fuschia handwriting, I nearly tinkled my pants.* It's so gorgeous. And I'm going to scan it in and post it here because it's too good to keep to myself. Try not to be jealous, though. I can't help it that Shuny and I are so close.

Now if you'll excuse me, I'm off to finish this blasted book that's preventing me from reading my next blasted book. Hugs hugs and if you need anything, you just let me know.

*I totally tinkled my pants.