a gift lost.
this ridiculously overpriced, but worth every cent, Lululemon outfit I picked up in San Francisco last year. I lived in it for nearly a year before losing too much weight to be able to pull it off anymore. I thought I looked so chic, so fashionable in it. I think I may have just looked really big and hot pink in it. So, now it belongs to Lorna in Minnesota and I hope it serves her well. I have my new yoga pants on, two sizes smaller and in no danger of falling around my ankles if I go for a run. A gift lost indeed.
a gift found.
I’d forgotten about this guy. Made by my buddy Grant, he has spent the last several years on my window sill in the kitchen until he went missing only to be found behind a stack of papers. Which, instead of spurring me on to get rid of such stack, made me instead vow to dust around fish so as to never have to move him again. Gift found.
a gift made.
Every meal I make from this new favorite cookbook feels like a gift I am pouring directly from Heidi’s book and into my family’s mouths. Full of healthy, wholesome, sort of out of this budding foodie’s comfort zone ideas. The quinoa patties take my breath away. It’s worth it just for that recipe. It is one more thing that is shifting my thinking from meals being a drudgery to meals being a drudgery with a purpose: that of having the opportunity to grace my family with goodness that will stir itself round their bellies and make them feel better, function better. Food is fuel: make it good. Gift made.
This is me being real. And hoping to get my camera into Norman’s this week so I can stop taking pictures with my Instamatic app. I hate cell phone pictures.