Icks nay on the ating day. All I want is to be distracted, vacuumed into distraction, but cooking is the only card I’m signing at the moment. Thank God fifty is like being the art on a dentist’s wall. I can focus on fruits and vegetables and bury everything else in the broom closet like some kind of rogue barrette.
I bought everything I could carry this week from the farmer. Carrots, kale, more red onions, radishes, red potatoes, cucumber, and broccoli. I have made a pan of roasted squash because last weeks was so good but this week I’m going to smooth it out to a puree with just a shadow of cream, curry and fresh thyme and a squeeze of lime. I made snickerdoodles and I’m on to rice pudding. I completely forgot Ferdinand’s hip hop class which he is happy about. I called him from the middle of rolling buttery bits of dough in cinnamon sugar. “Ferdinand.” “Yea ma?” “I forgot your dance class.” “That’s okay.” He hates the class, but I made him take it so that he knows the feeling of skill and flow and focus.
Ironic.