...on the cusp...
I love to cook. I love to eat. And I think I like to garden (the small size of my balcony makes it hard to tell).
It's not surprising that I use them all to get away from dissertation writing these days. I read cook books, I read books about cooking, I gaze lovingly at my tiny tomatoes (constantly protecting them from the squirrels), I bake, I roast, I chop, I taste.
Most importantly I dream. About the next great meal, the next ripe tomato, the sprouting of herbs, and about the future.
Ned and I live on the cusp. Dissertations almost done, but no idea what happens next. We're constantly writing applications, grant proposals, reading job descriptions, and dreaming. He's more practical (thank the stars) than I am. We don't dream of the same things. He dreams of articles, books, excavations, what type of colleagues he'll have, what type of students. I dreams of large sunny kitchens, backyard oases, gardens, farmers markets, perfectly roasted chickens, homemade bread and pasta.
I also dream of babies, of family, community. Of belonging.
But that's the distant-near future.
In the mean time, I dream with Julia Child, Boccaccio, Alice Waters, Machiavelli.
It's not surprising that I use them all to get away from dissertation writing these days. I read cook books, I read books about cooking, I gaze lovingly at my tiny tomatoes (constantly protecting them from the squirrels), I bake, I roast, I chop, I taste.
Most importantly I dream. About the next great meal, the next ripe tomato, the sprouting of herbs, and about the future.
Ned and I live on the cusp. Dissertations almost done, but no idea what happens next. We're constantly writing applications, grant proposals, reading job descriptions, and dreaming. He's more practical (thank the stars) than I am. We don't dream of the same things. He dreams of articles, books, excavations, what type of colleagues he'll have, what type of students. I dreams of large sunny kitchens, backyard oases, gardens, farmers markets, perfectly roasted chickens, homemade bread and pasta.
I also dream of babies, of family, community. Of belonging.
But that's the distant-near future.
In the mean time, I dream with Julia Child, Boccaccio, Alice Waters, Machiavelli.