Summer camp, Day 7

Well, here we are. Day 6 has turned into Day 7, and I’m still at just 33 words. It turns out there are rather a lot of other things I’d like to write about at the moment other than my novel.

Like how much that episode of Endeavour freaked me out, for one -- or how I was comforted, saddened and sobered, all at once, by the words of Indra K. Nooyi, CEO of Pepsico, as she spoke of women trying to have it all. Or the crazy nocturnal birds outside my window right now, at nearly 1 a.m., tweeting softly away.

On writing for summer camp

Well, here I sit, ready to catch up on my word counts for Camp NaNoWriMo -- and since it’s the 6th of July, and I’ve written hardly anything, I now have three thousand words to write.

Three. Thousand. Words. That’s like a college essay. You should need to have done some research, or have an outline, or a vague sense of something you want to argue for, for that much wordage. Let’s say I can type 60 words a minute -- which I can, though that’s more of if I’m typing up notes, not really when I’m writing from scratch -- that would be …. hmmmmmmm … 60 times 60 is 3,600. So that an hour if I’m speed writing. OK, maybe this isn’t so bad. And really, I have written 33 words already, from those few moments Friday when I managed to put ass to chair, as the saying goes -- so I really only need to write 2,967 words of my novel today.

In short, this is how my now-annual project to write just 500 words a day -- a measly 500 words a day, about 15,000 words for the entire month -- becomes untenable. There’s always an excuse. On July 1, we had a friend staying over. On July 2, I was happily exhausted and looking forward to devoting more time on July 3, my first day of the weekend, to the exercise. July 4: Holiday! No writing. Except for a few words here and there. (Even though we went nowhere, did nothing.) July 5: Went somewhere! Did something! And a tablet and keyboard are harder to lug around than a book for downtime. Besides, who can really write in 2-minute increments anyway, what with all the interruptions that take place while thousands of San Franciscans try to find their seats for an evening of free opera in the chilly, waterfront ballpark? No one, that’s who. Thus went my first five days of writing.

But here’s the deal: It’s Day 6, and I’m starting. For real. And thus, by Day 16, when I start my personal essay writing class (hooray!), I’ll be all in the groove, ready to devote time to being in this chair and to bettering my skills. Plus, Camp NaNoWriMo, with its adjustable word counts and fun prompts, is a pretty cool program.

Between here and there, I need to get through some busy days at work, attend a wedding reception and visit with some family. May the spirit of flexible writing be with me as I work to overcome such obstacles.

Back to the flowering homestead

We got home from our vacation to Japan this weekend, and I was pleasantly surprised to find not only that our grass hadn't grown that long (even with the recent rains!) -- but also that the entire backyard seems to be in bloom! The lemon tree is still in bud, the apple tree has fresh blossoms, the bon bons have gone crazy and even our kale bolts have a bit of flower on them.

I had just been reading a story recommending planting blossoming plants, including sages, to help out the bee population -- so I wasn't surprised to find a handful of buzzers humming around our blooming sage. And seriously, since when does moss bloom? Love it!

The amazing flowering moss that lines our stepping stone walkway.

Spring has sprung here in Oakland, and I'm so happy about it. Here's to warmer weather, longer days and lots of relaxing in the sun in our backyard.

*More to come! But millions of thanks for now to Lea, Rob and Elle for being amazing hosts and getting our trip kicked off.

New is hard. Is it better?

As we continue to settle in to our new home in Oakland, I can’t help looking at every other meadow and wondering if it might be greener.

I thought a lot about this on my drive home tonight -- and about how change tends to break open pieces of life that we had taken for granted, even the parts that weren’t meant to change. Even harder than change, really, is that side effect -- of having what we had taken to be the reality of our lives shown, in a new light, as something quite different.

There were a lot of pastures to look at as I rode through the East Bay towns of Fremont, Newark, Union City. In the morning, it’s easy to look at these suburbs wholesale as places of endless potential. When the sun is coming up and the streets are empty except for the hundreds of cars in commute mode, there’s a blank canvas over each house, corner store and park on which you can paint all manner of happy stories.

At night, however, more people are out and about -- and I have more time and brain space to observe them. It’s clearer then that there are still neighborhoods with poverty, with hard knocks, with people just trying to make ends meet -- even close to large, gated communities. Some cars are old, dented, missing pieces and parts. Some homes have messy yards, falling-down fences. 

In short, there’s a range -- just like there is in Oakland. 

At first, as always, the temptation is to harken back to San Francisco and to muse that things are so different there. But it’s not true. San Francisco is an incredibly beautiful city, but it’s still got its struggles. Over time, living there -- right or wrong -- I took in those things that were uncomfortable and grew accustomed to them: the trash that always seemed to gather on a sidewalk where I ran, the graffiti that often appeared on the street just outside our apartment, the heartache at seeing the homeless camped in doorways at night.

Is San Francisco a greener pasture than Oakland? Is homeownership a greener pasture than renting? Is not commuting a better life than commuting? Is it better to keep what you have or to strive for more?

I was probably spurred on in my brooding tonight by an NPR interview with Meg Wolitzer, who was discussing her book “The Interestings,” a novel that begins at a summer camp and follows the characters as they grow older. In the interview, “Fresh Air” host Terry Gross asked Wolitzer if she sees “adult selves as being finalized with no chance for reinvention?”

Part of Wolitzer’s answer hit home:

I think that it's harder and harder to change in all kinds of ways as we get older, at least it is for me. Comfort and familiarity become so important in your life, I think, and the idea of really reinventing yourself, I mean - but I think - is tough.

Change is hard. New is hard. I think I’m still a young woman, but I do love comfort and familiarity, as much as I hate to admit it.

Bits and pieces of my “new” are becoming comfortable, like the window next to my spot on the couch, with its view right into a big, old rhododendron bush. At night, the light from my lamp shines just so into the leaves and blossoms, and I feel at home. But much of living here is still new, with routines and habits still to be worked out.

Is the pasture green here? Is it greener than before?

Ask me again when it’s a little more familiar.

A (somewhat belated) Happy Valentine's Day to You

It was a little late, but I got into the full-blown Valentine's spirit this weekend.

While Vivek went to pick up our Chinese take-out Saturday night, I whisked our Christmas decorations into the spare room (shhhh! don't tell) and whipped up a quick string of construction paper hearts on kitchen twine to hang across our fireplace. A vase full of tulips on top the mantel, courtesy of a friend who'd visited earlier in the day, completed the simple but oh-so-festive look.

Then, tonight (it's still Valentine's weekend, right?) -- I finally made my pink-frosted cake.

At some point when I was young, my mom made a pink-frosted cake at Valentine's Day in the shape of a heart, complete with gummy heart candies on top. With so much chocolate candy around, I kind of doubt I appreciated that cake as I should have then -- but man, have I been wanting one lately!

I needed, however, to make some alterations. I'm not likely to use food coloring for much else, so I set on strawberries, hoping they'd provide the right shade of pink. And my doctor's been after me to cut back on sugary candy (I have a weakness for things like gummy hearts, orange slices and red licorice), so I decided to skip the extra sweets on top. (Why I was concerned about the candy garnish and not the 16 ounces of sugar that go into the frosting anyway is beyond me.) Finally, if I'd made the cake in time for the Big Day, I might have gone to the trouble of creating the heart shape. But as I only got to baking in time for President's day, I decided on a straight-up layer cake.

Baking the cake was easy (nothing beats a boxed yellow cake, right?) -- so I just needed to figure out how to get my strawberries into the icing. I found a few recipes for strawberry buttercream frosting that called for syrup, but I was determined to use real strawberries -- and I found one recipe using real strawberries, but the ratios looked off. So I decided to wing it.

The result? Pretty tasty cake, if I must say so. It does have a rustic look, since I used the full puree, seeds and all. But the fresh strawberry taste -- even with just a handful of strawberries mixed in -- makes for one sweet treat.

Pink frosting on a yellow cake with pink tea towel and red kettle nearby.

Turns out you only need a few strawberries to pull this together. (I froze the puree I couldn't use tonight.) And while I think this recipe's probably adaptable to whatever's in your fridge, I'll note that I used full-fat milk and real Clover butter.

Happy Valentine's Day!

------

Strawberry Buttercream Frosting
(frosts one layer cake)

1 lb. confectioner's sugar
1 stick of butter, softened (1/2 c.)
4-5 large strawberries (enough to make 3 T. puree)
a few drops of milk

Cream together the sugar and butter. While the mixer's running, cap and puree the strawberries.

Add the strawberry puree to the butter-sugar mixture 1/2 tablespoon at a time and mix until well blended. Add puree until the icing seems just about ready to spread, and then add a few drops of milk to smooth it out.

Spring is (almost) here

Shhhhhhh -- listen! Spring is coming. Can you hear it?

The birds are up and singing. The sun is shining -- and it's only 7 a.m. There's a quiet hush hanging over the dawn: No snow plows; no rain; no wind.

I know this isn't what my East Coast friends and family are hearing or seeing yet. (Darn that Punxsutawney Phil!) But it's what we've got here. The apple tree is blossoming, the chrysanthemums are popping up in green shoots and the grass is growing so fast you can practically watch it.

Our apple tree -- blossoming already.

I'm most excited to see how long the days are lasting, from before 7 a.m. to nearly 6 p.m. There's more and more light every day, with more minutes and more hours to run, to pull weeds, to sit and enjoy the porch or patio.

We still need some winter rain, but I'm hoping -- for the sake of all these blossoms -- that we're past the risk of frost.

Bring it, spring. Bring it.

The joys of doing (almost) nothing

Two truths about today:

1. It was mostly a big, fat, do-nothing day.
2. I really needed today to be a big, fat, do-nothing day.

The past few weeks have been amazing, with trips to India, New York and (briefly) home, visits with old friends and the start of a new role at work -- but boy, was I ready to sit still for a while. I just wanted to stay in my pajamas as long as I liked and bum around after that in sweatpants -- watch TV, cook, make coffee, read, write, whatever struck my fancy.

So today, that's what I did. I woke up, cleaned the kitchen a bit, put some coffee on, fried some bacon and mixed up some pancakes. Then I visited with a friend who dropped by just as Vivek was frying up the last round of bacon and pancakes -- and the three of us proceeded to watch the Olympics. For hours. No seriously, hours. It was amazing.

After the friend and the boy headed out -- she for more socializing and he for some soccer-playing -- I settled in for two hours of mindless Internet browsing.

At 5 p.m., I decided I ought to do something -- so I mowed the yard (the grass was really tall, y'all). In fact, I mowed and trimmed the yard and swept the walks. I even figured out how to flip my trimmer around so that it would work as an edger, too.

See what amazing productivity you can get after (most of) a day of rest?

Now back to my sweatpants. It's time to watch Ben Fong-Torres narrate San Francisco's annual Chinese New Year Parade.

Lights in the new darkness

I wrote a few days ago that I was feeling a bit bad about not taking down my Christmas lights. (They're still up.) The thing is, though, that I'm sort of happy to have them still hanging around.

I've always loved Christmas lights. Not necessarily the razzle-dazzle, big-time displays, though those certainly have a place. No, I just like regular old lights -- strings that hang from eaves, wrap around porch posts or encircle a wreath. It doesn't really matter what color they are or what kind of bulbs, as long as they bring light to an unexpected place.

A spectacular display in my hometown.

For as long as I can recall, my family have had lights strung around the house at Christmas. For a while, they were icicle lights -- annoying, miserable, icicle lights, as it turned out. Strands of the icicle lights were inevitably tossed onto the roof by the incessant winds on our hill -- and, nine times out of 10, frozen there by icy weather. Dad loved those lights, let me tell you.

Most often, however, my folks have had strings of old-fashioned white C9 lights -- those warm, glowing incandescent bulbs that can light up a room. With a string around the entire house -- and even up over the center of the house where the roof changes heights -- the entire yard gets lit by those lights. More importantly, the lights shine into each and every room of the house. They create a warm buzz about the windows, constantly hinting that something exciting might be just outside.

In our new neighborhood, I was thrilled to see strings of red, white, green and blue popping onto the homes near ours. Even without a string on each and every home, our neighborhood got quite colorful during the holidays.

As the lights have come down, one by one, I've been as sad as I always am to see the streets return to their January selves. There's nothing particularly cold, or even dreary, this year, about northern California. Nonetheless, it's tough to see a bejeweled street go back to being a non-bejeweled one.

So, partially in protest, and partially in deference to the insurmountable list of other to-do's at home, my Christmas lights shall stay up for now. In this time of continued change, I'm thankful for a constant bit of light.

No weigh-ins for me, no sirree

Vivek found our weighing scale Sunday in one of the few remaining "chowder" boxes from the apartment -- and promptly weighed himself. He even carried the scale around the house to test it out on tile and carpeted floors to make sure it was accurate.

It lurks -- our weighing scale.

I won't be weighing in right now. In fact, maybe not until February. Who knows? Maybe not at all.

In the past three months, I've survived a move and a job change and then spent an incredibly relaxing, rejuvenating and delicious week celebrating Christmas with my family and loved ones on the East Coast. Have I gained a pound or two -- or even a few? Probably.

But you know what? I know I'll work off those pounds as I get back into my normal eating and exercising this month, so I'm not gonna sweat it. (No pun intended.)

My jeans still fit, and that's good enough for me.

A workable workload

I've been feeling bad that I haven't had a chance to take down my holiday lights and garland on our front porch yet. Even Epiphany's happened! But lo and behold, there I was at Grace Cathedral tonight for Tuesday yoga, and their holiday greenery was still up. So I'm totally OK, right?

Check out that wreath!

Settling into in our new home has definitely included a struggle with the new work load. Our friends told us it was a whole new responsibility, but I had shrugged it off. Surely it was fun, too? Right?

It is fun, but our nights and weekends are gone for the moment. Take Sunday: We were just settling down to watch some Masterpiece on PBS, finishing our last chores, when we realized we needed a tiny connecting piece from IKEA to put our old bed -- now the guest bed -- back together.

So off we went! And since we were right by Trader Joe's and Home Depot, we ended up picking up a few other things, too. (Of course!) We did curl up on the couch with dinner to watch Masterpiece that night, but it wasn't until about 10 p.m.

And that was all after spending Tuesday washing the car, Thursday evening buying furniture and Saturday hemming and hanging curtains.

I'll get those lights and that garland taken down -- eventually. There are a few things to first. Like chanting 'Om.'

Kale-Spinach Strata -- A Success!

I even made the grapefruit spritzer with rosemary (sugar not needed).

Adventures in Gardening, Decision No. 1: No More Kale

Vivek and I inherited an incredible vegetable garden when we bought our house. And when I say garden, what I really mean is gardens -- four raised planter boxes, plus some assorted 'volunteer' veggies (think zucchini and purple potatoes) sprinkled in other planters and beds throughout the yard.

I'm super excited about, if overwhelmed by, these gardens. My mom's always had a garden, and I've long wanted to try my hand at veggies. You might have seen my overly enthusiastic posts earlier this year about my third attempt (a charm!) at an indoor herb garden at our San Francisco apartment.

Sage, cilantro, California poppies and two types of basil bask in an afternoon glow just after being planted.

(Pssst: The sage and basils and are still going strong!)

So our huge outdoor garden is something of a thrill -- particularly the tomatoes, sage, chilies and still-unearthed potatoes it came with. We started using the tomatoes right away (especially after December's frost bit the vines and we had to pluck all of the fruit), and we've been giving out lemons from our yard's tree like it's going outta style.

The one thing I haven't known what do with is the kale.

So. Much. Kale. In multiple varieties. In fact, I learned just this morning that what my mother and I had diagnosed (via video chat) as an ornamental 'lettuce' is actually Kamome red kale, a bitter-tasting form of the leafy green. Super! In addition, we seem to have Lacinato and red Russian kale -- and, if I'm not mistaken, premier kale (see this helpful page for more details).

The thing is: We don't really eat kale. I'm not opposed to it, and for such a nutritionally dense food, it's honestly pretty tasty. But it's just not part of my daily intake -- and I've certainly never seen it in an Indian cookbook.

Last week, however, on our flight back from the East Coast, I found this delicious-looking recipe last week in the Real Simple I was reading. Kale strata, you say? With sausage and fontina? In. I now had a use for kale.

This week, I hunted down the non-garden ingredients for the strata (even sending Vivek to get fontina with our regular groceries yesterday), and I ventured out into the backyard this morning to get the kale. It's freshest when just picked, right?

I'd completely forgotten, though, that I've been underestimating the number of aphids on those curly kale leaves. Since we took ownership of the house, we've focused (naturally, right?) on getting the inside of the home settled, favoring being able to find, say, a toothbrush or the 1/2-cup measuring cup over getting the weeds and bugs out of the front and back yards. So the pests, both plant and animal alike, have made themselves plentiful.

OK -- no biggie, right? Feeling optimistic, I still snipped a handful of kale leaves, dunked them into a bowl of salted water, weighted them down with a dish, and went off to church to pray while my aphids, I hoped, were floating to the top of the water.

No dice. I came back to some aphids floating, to be sure, but still clumps of them all over most of the leaves. And attempts to rub them off proved insufficient at best. Have you seen the underside of a kale leaf? It's like a labyrinth of caves specifically designed as aphid hiding places -- or, if you prefer, little aphid villas. No wonder they love the stuff!

A young -- and remarkably clean -- kale leaf from our garden. Check out those curls! Check out those caves!

I'll spare you a photo of the worst leaves -- but suffice that say that, unless some miracle cure reveals itself, most of our kale crop appears unusable.

To save today's brunch, I took the few leaves I could clean off, mixed them with some baby spinach and created kale-spinach strata (ta-da!). I'm sure it will be equally delicious, if not quite as nutritious.  As for moving forward: I'm sad to say it, but I'm pretty sure these kale plants have got to go. (Do you want to clean the leaves?) In their place, I'll be planting spinach -- a leafy green I do buy by the pound, and apparently a veggie less interesting to aphids.

In my opinion, everyone wins. At least in my kitchen.

In search of an old remedy

I was thinking today of a scene from "Downton Abbey" (indulge me -- it starts tonight!) where Anna catches a cold -- a sniffle, really -- and is sent right off to bed by Mrs. Hughes. She barely sneezes and immediately earns some bed rest -- and she passes that in her pajamas with a good book. Just imagine!

Now, I hardly want to trade in my modern-day medicine -- but when was the last time you truly got to relax while you were sick? Where you simply could loaf about, take naps as needed, read a book, watch a movie? Yeah, I can't remember either. And it's such a shame, since I understand from my doctor that my body heals itself while I'm sleeping -- not when I'm toying away on my laptop.

Despite my cold, I've focused more on Resolution No. 2 (the house) than 3 (relaxing) over the past few days. Sure, I called in sick to work on Friday, and I generally kept my work laptop closed so I could rest. But I had to help build an IKEA bed that day in time for our new mattress to be delivered. On Saturday, I stayed home while my pati dev went out to get groceries, but I spent my time indoors hemming curtains instead of curled up with my "Christmas at the New Yorker" (I'm still trying to finish a story from the holiday season).

I'm sure there are some who will say it's nice that we can be so productive these days while we're sick, mollified by Mucinex and Advil. But I find myself seeking that earlier practice of just resting when under the weather. After all, didn't Anna go back to work, all better, the next day?

2 for 3: Not so bad, right?

Well folks: I'm down for the count. If I didn't know better, I'd say it's the flu -- but I got a flu shot. Do colds come with aches and fever now?

Whether it's the ongoing settling-in-after-moving, my holiday diet or just the cold itself, I'm pretty beat. I took a rare sick day today and even made chicken soup tonight -- definite sick food for me. (Though pretty cool to make it from scratch for once -- Mom will be so proud!) And once this bug passes, I'm sure I'll be done with hot tea for a while. Is this cup nine today? Or 10?

At any rate, a long way of saying I fell asleep early yesterday and didn't post. But given my No. 3 resolution for 2014 -- to relax -- I'm not gonna sweat it. Here's to getting back on track.

Happy 2014!

I'm making only three resolutions this year:

1. To write every day.
2. To settle into my new home.
3. To relax.

I imagine numbers 2 and 3 will probably go hand in hand.

There are also a few things I'd like to learn how to cook this year -- including my mother's "oven sandwiches" and kadala, a Keralan breakfast stew that I adore. But there will be time to discuss all of those later.

Happy New Year!

A recap: How the week went

So: How did it go? How was being gluten-free (-ish) for a week (-ish)?

It was marvelous. Not quite heaven, but enough to keep me going on a path of less gluten -- or, at the very least, less bread.

To be clear: I had a bit of a cold mid-week, so that made this kind of a weird time for this experiment. I never really like to eat much bread (or anything) when I have a cold -- and I certainly wouldn't normally drink so much hot tea in one week. But casting that aside, I still felt better.

What made it so good? I felt more energetic, for one. I had fewer cravings. I ran better. I was lighter, more upbeat -- and by all means, less bloated. I can't say definitively if gluten is causing my tummy to be so puffy -- but my clothes fit way better this week. And if the scales are to be believed (take this with a giant grain of salt, as we're quite skeptical on ours) -- I lost three pounds between Sunday and Friday. 

As several people noted to me this week, it's fairly easy to go gluten-free these days, especially in San Francisco -- and especially if you work at a fancy technology company where there's always a salad bar at lunch. I'm also married to an Indian -- and while we didn't cook Indian food this particular week, rice tends to be more a part of our routine than bread anyway. So I don't feel exactly deprived when it comes to food, which makes the whole experience better, I'm sure.

I promptly quit Friday evening, when, of course, the opportunity for a slice of Friday pizza presented itself -- and I've been breading it up since then. It's been nice to be open to all restaurants again -- but after a feast at Pizzeria Delfina tonight, I'm ready to get back to feeling a little less sluggish tomorrow.

As I noted in my first post on the subject, I don't intend to focus on completely clearing gluten from my life. I still love pizza, and cake, and baking (sometimes all three at once!) -- and I don't see a need to avoid my beloved wheat flour entirely. But I do think that limiting it to weekends, as some people do with desserts, might make a difference for my overall well-being. I'll keep trucking for a few weeks and report back here.

A successful staycation wrap-up

I took two extra days off last week so that I could have a really long holiday weekend -- and I am happy to report that five days off, at the end of summer, is a marvelous thing. I am heading back to work today feeling refreshed, relaxed and energized.

On my break, I remembered to look forward to things. Going to the Northwestern-Berkeley game Saturday night was a great reminder of how awesome fall is, with its college football, crisp nights and sweet flavors -- pumpkin lattes, Halloween candy and Diwali food.

The Northwestern Wildcats take on the California Golden Bears at Memorial Stadium in Berkeley. (Aug. 31, 2013)

I started preparing for my favorite fall holiday, Thanksgiving, with my re-planted herb garden (third time’s a charm, right?). 

Cilantro, sage, two types of basil and some California poppies for good measure.

I got back in sync with my writing. This is the third time in four days that I’ve sat down to write.

I sat still. On Thursday, I sat on the couch reading for three hours straight -- and it was pure heaven. Read, doze, read, doze. I finally finished The Orphan Master’s Son. I read about tennis. I read the paper. Ah, vacation!

Reading about and watching Novak Djokovic. An immersive study.

All in all, quite the successful five days. And now off to work I must go.

Et tu? Yeah, I'm gonna try gluten-free

I’m starting an experiment this week: Trying to go gluten-free. Or at least bread-free. OK, gluten-free. Actually, OK, I’m going to try to minimize my exposure to gluten. (As I wrote this, our neighbors delivered a slice of custard-and-apple pie.)

I’ve suspected I might do better without gluten for a few years now -- ever since I did the food experiment that helped me find my citrus issues. I don't think I'm gluten intolerant, or that I have celiac disease -- as I feel otherwise fine. But during the week where I skipped gluten, I felt amazing. I dropped a lot of foods during that week, of course (so I could slowly add them back the next week) -- dairy, wheat, any white flour, eggs, corn, peanuts, bananas, beef, tomatoes, potatoes, oranges, soy, chocolate, pork, sugar (including all candy), yeasts. (I also avoided alcohol and caffeine, save for a spare glass of red wine or cup of black tea.) But that’s a laundry list of suspected irritants that seems impossible to eliminate completely from my daily intake -- even more so when you consider that many of those things listed are either favorites of mine (chocolate?!) or so integrated into what I currently eat (eggs).

So I’ll start experimenting with gluten.

Why now? I read yet another article this weekend (in The New Yorker) in which an athlete, this time Novak Djokovic, is revealed to be someone who avoids gluten. I don’t know that I buy into the diagnosis method Djokovic’s doctor used -- but the concept of avoiding gluten is still food for fodder, so to speak. And as I’ve been feeling oh-so-tired after my workouts this summer, I’m open to new possibilities at the moment.

So off to the gluten-free (as much as possible) races we go. I’ll let you know how it turns out.

Simplicity is bliss

I spent a few hours today consolidating posts from all of my blogs into one. All the posts in one place. How lovely! Can you feel the simplicity? I can.

I'm going to continue to maintain several of the existing blogs -- Russian Hill Article Review and Half-Desi, to name two -- where there's a clear theme and/or a finite time period where the story should be told. I'll import those posts here, to beckybowman.blogspot.com, with the appropriate labels. But for all other writings, I'll just be posting here.

That is, of course, until I dream up my next great idea for a blog.

I also worked on my website and got my Etsy shop in order today. (It's never too early to shop for Christmas, y'all!) Not too shabby for a Friday.

Life is sweet

I gotta tell you -- there are days when I think I must have the most perfect life ever. This is one of them.

For two weeks, I've been wanting to celebrate the birth of my niece, Lizzy, with a scone, bacon and champagne breakfast -- and for whatever reason, it hasn't worked out. But now that the royal baby's arrived, it seemed a fitting time to snap to -- and I finally had the ingredients, including cherries and clotted cream, in my tiny kitchen.

I had a bit of a nervous challenge ahead of me: My scone recipe was not quite perfected. For years, I've been trying to turn my favorite savory scone recipe into a sweet one, with limited success. No matter what I tried, the scones always seemed to come out heavy, dull or -- worst of all -- bitter. Today, however, the stars aligned, and we ended up with light, fluffy and moist puffs, chockfull of cherries, chopped almonds and dark chocolate.

Why celebrate the coinciding births of Lizzy and Prince George of Cambridge? Well it's lovely of you to ask. You see, my family have a long history of coinciding births with the royal family.  ‪Prince William, Duke of Cambridge, you see, was born a mere three weeks after me -- meaning that my mother and Diana, Princess of Wales, were pregnant at the same time. And as my father-in-law apparently used to call my husband the "Prince of Wales," I'm pretty sure my kin are bound for greatness, power and influence.

Here's to you, royal Lizzy!

Blanc de blancs, cafe crème, applewood-smoked bacon and cherry-chocolate-almond scones with clotted cream.