i went to mongolia. it was the adventure of a lifetime.
i went to newyork. it was so good to see my sweet sissy.
i went to seattle. seeing friends and, my god, mckenzies wedding? man that was good (and beautiful!).
i went here. i went there. up. down. and every which way. pheewwww its been a whirlwind.
and through it all...i needed something solid.
it seems as though i needed something. as i begin to wonder where my foundations are. as i break away from spain and await the journey to settle into seattle. as i soak up these moments at home. i've need something.
i wake up in the morning and my bedroom window faces that mighty tree that i've spoke of so often. that tree that watches over me, that tree that is wiser than anyone i have met. he stand there. solid. sturdy. i needed something to keep me sturdy like him. as i travel. as i move. as i step left and right and every-which way.
it seems as though i needed something to wrap my head around what i have seen this summer. to have courage as my brother moves to iraq. to understand where my year has taken me and where it is going. to find strength in separation. to keep michelle michelle.
i needed to find something.
and so.
i bake.
it's weird, these days. i have found this therapy that somehow gets me up in the morning and somehow allows me to rest my head on my pillow at night. "all is well and calm and fine. the crust is chilling in the fridge. close your eyes little one." i bake. i bake breads. i bake dinners. i bake this and that. i bake until my fingers prune and my arms are sore. but mostly, what has mostly gotten me through these past days....i bake pies.
(and a hardy hats off to patty griffin and jenna hunterson for leading the way.)
my mom bought me a pie plate yesterday. a glorious one. white. heavy. deep. with thick and rolling ripples on the edges. unlike anything i've seen. this gift, this gift to keep me strong, this gift to help define my being, this gift-- perhaps she knew the weight of it. perhaps she knew how important it would be to me. to fill this plate with the richness of my culinary intellect. of urging this process. of releasing this therapy. of doing what i know how to do right now. sometimes thats what you have. you have what you know right now. and you use that. and you're honest about it. and you bake.
i mix.
i kneed.
i measure.
i don't measure.
i let myself think.
i wear my sexy apron.
sometimes i sing at the top of my lungs to music from the past.
i dip my fingers in and close my eyes and taste.
i invent.
i kneed.
i kneed.
i kneed.
and goddamn it is nice.
