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I find that the more interesting my life is, the less time I have to write. The more time I have to write, the less stimulated I am, and therefore have fewer interesting topics to write about. The only exception to this rule is a sort of in-between period I get after I make a decision to put myself out in the world more but before I’ve actually put the plans in motion.
In any case, I’ve been getting out into the world a bit. And I’ve been staying in a bit, too. We had a couple of friends over for the weekend. I made chicken crepes with a sherry bechamel sauce, salad and a lemon ladyfinger dessert. None of it was particularly dietetic, but it was all delicious if I say so myself. I really enjoy cooking, and I am very gratified when I make a dish and people really enjoy it. From a fairly early time in my life, I’ve always wanted every meal I cook to be at least a bit above “average.” Maybe it’s because I’m from New Orleans, but I’ve always appreciated the differences between food, good food, and great food. What’s the point of eating something that’s just “okay?”
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