Once upon a time I wrote a lovely, sincerely self-deprecating post about my frustration with my photography lately and my ambivalence about (but commitment to!) my unfailingly arbitrary November Challenge. And then Blogger went and deleted it. Profanity after the jump.
Last night's dinner was mostly an exercise in focused distraction, so I don't think we'll be winning any food photography awards here. Also, I'm suddenly concerned that my oven rests on a steep decline—what's with all the tomato migration?
This, my friends, is a truly "kitchen sink" sort of breakfast. Clearly I am of the opinion that when one sleeps in past the point of appropriateness even for your average college student, one deserves a portion size equal to breakfast and lunch jammed together.
So I got one of those wild hairs I sometimes get, one of those notions that I need to inject my life with some capital-C challenge, something that will make me more mindful, more healthy, more energized, more wise. In a word, less sleepy.
I am a work in progress. I perpetually need a hair cut. I'm totally devoted to my remarkable nieces and nephew. I am an elementary home cook and a magazine worker bee. (Please criticize my syntax and spelling in the comments.) I think my dog is hilarious. I like chicken and spicy things. I have difficulty being a grown-up. Left to my own devices, I will eat enormous amounts of cheese snacks of all kinds.