So here’s what’s up: I have the day off of work, and I sat down at the computer to write. As you know, I haven’t posted in a while, which means that since September a lot has changed in the world, when the outlook for our country was very different than it is today. During early fall, there was hope and an excitement about what January 20th would mean, and I fully expected that today would be a celebration. Instead, I find myself watching a reboot of The Twilight Zone. As the months have passed, I’ve often thought about using this space to write how I feel about the election, and the conversations I have had to have with my kids about the way people voted and what this means for their lives, and for all of our lives. But instead, I’ve talked with my friends, I’ve talked with my colleagues, I’ve talked with my family, and I chose to spend my time in other ways.
I believe in honesty, and when I worked on this blog more frequently, one of the most valuable things I got from it was the chance to tell my story. It isn’t always pretty. In fact, our holiday card this year tried to reflect that. The first lines were “Wouldn’t it be nice if everyone’s year was all sunshine and roses like most holiday cards try and make it look? Well, our 2016 had its ups and downs. There were some professional disappointments, cranky bodies (thanks to our age), cranky kids (thanks to their age), and a cranky house (thanks to its age). But thank goodness it was balanced by some pretty awesome moments!” Which is true. All of it. And so as I began to write this morning I tried to dig down to that honest place. And you know what I found? I wanted to escape. I didn’t want to deal. I had a few paragraphs written, and the ideas mapped out for telling you what I think of the latest recipe for our country, and miraculously was going to tie it in to my new favorite dinner recipe (impressive, right?), but instead….I said screw it, and went upstairs to grab some coffee and breakfast.
But then I did something on auto-pilot. Instead of taking out the hard boiled eggs, I reached for two sticks of butter. I popped them in the microwave at half power for a minute. Then I put my mixer bowl on the scale, and reached into my cupboard for the sugars. Three of them. White, turbinado, and dark brown. No recipe in front of me, just a formula in my head. Not my formula, mind you. But a brilliant woman named Ashley Rodriguez’s. …
