Monthly Archives: March 2009

if you had told me a year ago…

Posted on by
11

… That Catherine and Eric would be married.

… That I would be deliriously in love with someone I met on the Internet… in BOSTON.

… That I would be forging out on my own once again in a neighbourhood I hadn’t even considered before.

… That I would be fussing my way to a much larger move than that.

… That I would be doing freelancing things that I dearly love.

… That I would have spent six out of those twelve months in some stage of pneumonia.

… That I would have flown on an airplane more times in one year than in the ten years previous.

… That I would be selling off everything I own.

… That I would have the window to my bedroom shut, because it’s chilly!

… That my money would have to stretch in thirty directions instead of just three.

… That I would love my parents even more than I did before, because I finally get that even when they don’t approve or understand, they adore me.

… That I would have made so many new and amazing friends.

Well… I don’t know what I would have thought.

But for better or for worse, it’s good that time unfolds as it does.

I think one day at a time is exactly how I would have wanted to experience it all.

my dinner tonight.

Posted on by
5

Chicken, first pan-fried, then roasted, with baby squash and baby red potatoes.

Sauce? Blood orange juice, garlic, honey, fresh rosemary, olive oil, salt, pepper, and love.

I DO love cooking. It’s a joy of mine to invent recipes.

And I come by it honestly — my mom is an amazing cook. She can take next to nothing and turn it into a feast for the belly… and the eyes.

She taught me well — and I’m not halfway to her level yet.

I assume Gradon is not saddened by this passion. In fact, I’ve been giving him recipes and cooking tips over the phone for months, and he now fixes fantastic dishes for himself a good portion of the time. His son particularly likes his pork chops and haricots verts with garlic.

This culinary renaissance could explain why some of his pants are are the wee-est bit snug now.

But, as any cook will tell you, a little extra meat on the bone is a gooooood thing.

dear lungs:

Posted on by
5

I’d start this letter with a “How are you?” but I KNOW HOW YOU ARE.

Obviously you’ve had a little trouble keeping your affairs in order, since I’ve had pneumonia three times in a year and even now, I feel as though woodland creatures — SOGGY, JELLO-COVERED WOODLAND CREATURES WITH VELCRO SUITS — have taken up residence in your recesses.

I have two inhalers now. TWO.

I wear scarves everywhere to keep you warm. SCARVES. (Okay, I DO love pashminas… but FEEL GUILTY ANYWAY.)

I take cold medicine to try and dry you up, but the only thing dry about me is the skin on my legs. I BLAME YOU BECAUSE YOU’VE CLEARLY MONOPOLIZED ALL THE MOISTURE IN MY SYSTEM.

I take cough medicine because SOMEONE HAS TO DRUG THE LUNG SQUIRRELS SO THEY CEASE THEIR NUT GATHERING FOR TEN MINUTES.

I’m tired of having a backache from hacking.

I’m tired of puffy eyes from being sleep-deprived.

I’m tired of feeling winded by the act of pushing down the top of my French press.

I don’t think you like antibiotics, because you ignore them like the veggies on the side of a plate of hot wings.

I don’t think you like rainy weather, because you make me feel like I’m breathing through a sponge.

I don’t think you like me to walk around, because you make my body feel as though I’ve been doing yoga on Lego.

So what do you want?

You can tell me.

Do you want me to swallow my new blow dryer?

Do you want me to inhale some mothballs?

Do you want me to move to California? OH, OKAY. ON IT. THAT’S COOL. WE AGREE.

Love,

Meg