Ten.Five Hundred & Ninety-One
I feel like I need more sleep.
The sound of the rain hitting the concrete. I wish it was one of those days where I could just lay in the bed and read and drink tea.
Cold hands. Cold feet. He reminds me that I forgot sliced cheddar and chicken nuggets. The other kids always wonder why he gets so much more and that’s because he is always asking. I think of how my mother used to tell me, “Ye have not because ye ask not.” Is that from the Bible? I don’t know. I just know I wish I was as comfortable with asking for what I wanted as my 7 year-old.
Short day. Cinnamon, cardamom, clove, a slice of orange, peppercorns. Sweeten with local honey. Add a little bit of vanilla pea milk. Oh, yes. This is going to be addictive.
It’s too late to quit. I better sit down and get to work.
The pond looks like it might overflow. Where will the water go when it does? There is something peaceful about today’s rain. The way the palms are swaying in the breeze is hypnotic.
The dough is yellow just as I’d expect it to be. I can’t get the pasta machine to roll it out thinly enough. It just won’t anchor to the counter well enough. I decide to hand roll the rest. I end up with big fat squares filled with basil and ricotta.
I wish I had Chianti. I pull out a bottle of Sonoma Coast Vineyards Pinot Noir. But then I think about how they ruined it by changing the clonal selection and I decide not to open it. What I really need is a Chianti, anyway.
We manage to get the hair done without tears.