goodness, sometimes it’s just hard to get started on some of these words. i was making cookies earlier today, that’s done now, all i’m working on now is marinara sauce. i had started a post about it being critical to get all the levels of flavor right for the sauce. and then i erased it. can sauce be poetry? i guess it can. a poetry without words. i keep thinking of all those little leaves of herbs floating around, bubbling around in all that liquid slowly disintegrating. leaving a legacy of flavor and memories. sometimes i take it too far…HAHA!
i’m reading e.e. cummings right now. it takes me a while to come around to the classics and now i’m starting to see that as a good thing because in my immaturity i tended to rush life experiences that didn’t mean that much. and now-the books i read carry more depth and understanding because of what i bring to them when i read them. the experience is richer because i’ve lived through more. so maybe, it’s critical that i re-read some of the classics i barreled through at a young age, naive to the broader implications of some of the characters’ lives and how they lived.
blergh-i might have overdone it with the coffee this morning. i got so excited with everything i was going to do today and decided i needed my usual two to three cups to fuel the culinary adventures and now i’m left on the other side with ringing ears and buggy eyes and twitching feet. i still haven’t learned to tone it down. it’s the one last addiction i’m clinging to maybe. it’s strange how i find it so comforting. maybe it’s the prospects that little cup of coffee contains, it’s like a world of possibilities and it all starts with that morning cup of coffee.