I had such high hopes for December. It was the month when I was going to sit down and compose blog post upon blog post. I was going to write about the Grand Canyon and New Mexico and finally share my favorite pizza recipe (it's got a Berkeley flair to it), as well as all…
The past few weeks have been several shades of brutal. No matter what I've been doing, whether speed reading a book with a looming library due date or keeping up with the piles of dishes that always manage to accumulate when I'm looking the other way, I've felt more than a little pressed for time.…
But for me, one of the constituents of a good life is the ability to find pleasure in the small things. A good jam for your toast in the morning. A chutney that is made from apples you gathered last fall...These are seemingly unimportant things, and they won't change the world, but the sum of…
Christmas eve is a special night. We go to my Grandparents'. We have dinner. We have yummy yummy cookies we munch on all night. We open gifts. We take pictures. Then we go home. Good night. Sleep tight. Let's hope Santa has a safe flight. - A six-year-old me I was at my mom's this afternoon,…
Before leaving California this year, the Greek and I decided to have our own little Christmas dinner the night we exchanged presents. While it was but a humble feast since I largely spent the day grading papers and the Greek had to make an early evening lab run, we ate well and discovered some recipes…
He could see red, berries on holly and cotoneaster. He could smell lavender and thyme. All that could not be taken from him. And it didn't matter if, overnight, the colour had worn off the kitchen knobs. It didn't matter if the china light-shade in the kitchen had a crack he hadn't heard about before.…
It was a wild idea, romantic and implausible, and the odd thing is that it worked. -Louis de Bernieres (Corelli's Mandolin)A lot can happen in a week. I flew across the country (it's cold here; my skin doesn't like it at all). I also revised my prospectus (yay, finally! Now the real writing can begin)…
Dining with Dostoevsky 