Thursday Night~~
Flora said it..."Love is All". She knows, because she has been a love vigilante..always ready to love, always ready to feel, no matter what has come before, no matter what is, no matter what will be. I follow her path curiously, because, i know, that with her singleminded determination, her heart, someone is going to mesh with her in such a complete, glorious way, that she will be an inspiration to that which i hold so dear: complete, satisfied, almost smug, yet gloriously ingenuous, love.
As for me? I am writing my book. I happened to give Rikk's portfolio to the wife of an artist's agent today...I never miss an opportunity to promote him. He seems far away, yet, i still hold him close...perhaps i am a fool, or perhaps, like he says, i just need alot of external attention, to prove love.
Posh! , i say. I just want so much to snuggle deep, that's all.
I have been cooking all day, and i am redolent with a peculiar perfume....garlic, and balsamic vinegar; asiago cheese and parmesan and tomatoes, cooked all day in a simmering sauce.
Food makes me crazy..perhaps that's why people like what i cook...I caress the vegetables before i slice them, i scrutinse them for color, and shape, and form...I taste, and stir, and fan the fragrant steam...and all the while, i whisper"God Bless You, Eat Well", adding the secret ingredient to my dishes..
I am not classicly trained, nor do i call myself a chef. I am so.....not marketable in this world. I should have been born in the fifties...wearing a frilly apron, cleaning the house, tending children, and kissing my husband dutifully on the cheek, as he came home from work.
Yah, all of today's women will hate that remark. But, between pot roast and homework, vaccumning and laundry, i could write, and garden, and not worry about the mortgage payment, or the utility bills. Trade off? sure. I bet Harriet Beecher Stowe ironed her husbands shirts, while she plotted the Underground Railroad. Later.