food, how are you?

i've been working out and eating right. i want to get in shape. i moved to the midwest and let myself go. a bit. and no one sees me. i mean, no one really sees, well, me. no one looks twice at me, no one notices who i am, no one really... even... cares. oh, my kids do. they love me and tell me wonderful things. i hope they know that. i hope they know how much i appreciate how beautiful they believe i am. even when i'm being hagatha. but it's only them. i can't remember when anyone, okay, a guy, told me i was beautiful or i looked nice or looked at me more than just in passing.

and i'm lonely. in a way that makes me stay up late at night (no matter how hard i've worked out, although my insomnia isn't quite as wretched since i've been working out as i have been). in a way that makes me want to uproot myself and my children, move to europe and cook amazing food while living in some bizarre stone home, learning a totally different language and allowing my hair to go wild, free and know why truffles really are so revered (okay, i already know that, but my brother would like to understand more). in a way that makes me wonder what the hell i'm doing with my life that i feel so lonely at a point in my life when all i should be worrying about is whether my kids are happy at school and i'm living my life to the fullest, as i had always hoped.

silly, isn't it? romantic fluff, especially after so long away from the blog that you all probably haven't checked back once. no worries. i write this more for myself than anything, because i suck at keeping journals. always have. and, quite frankly, now that i've determined no one really reads this, i've figured that i can say anything i want, as long as i bring it back to food, right?

and it's getting there.

i don't eat after 7 p.m. anymore. truly. not just a hopeful thing, but really. so if i get to 7 and i haven't had dinner yet, then i won't. that's how i roll these days. at this moment, i am so hungry, i could eat my bunny food -- oh, wait, i forgot to tell you. we got two incredibly gorgeous polish dwarf black bunnies at the state fair just a couple of weeks ago. so sweet -- Cocoa and Peanut -- two girls who are just the greatest loves. they live in bugsy's old castle and are dee-vine. but, anyway, back to food -- the hunger is dissipating, but the way i figure it, i'm 45+ and if i want a healthy lifestyle along with killer abs, i better damn well ignore hunger pangs at an hour that is way too icky for me and my body.

what has this to do with cooking, you're thinking. well, i'll tell you. i have begun creating recipes more than using those out of books. although, the other night, i made a killer shrimp and scallop curry to roll over and play dead for with a base of a cook book here. brandon even ate the rice (how cool is that) and the shrimp. brandon hates shrimp. he ate the rice, the shrimp and scallops. and smiled, asking for more. nicholas devoured the shrimp and rice, but didn't like the scallops. happens, but kept complimenting me on my cooking and how "great" i was... am. my sons love me. that means more than anything. except, late at night, when the dog takes over the bed, the bunnies are hopping about and i'm watching one too many romantic comedies for my own good. blech!

the exquisite delight in my dinner blew me away, but didn't take away the need for romance. i want romance. i want the dream. i don't believe in knights in shining armor, but i do believe in love. crazy, i know, but i do. and i believe in slow, languid meals in front of a fireplace, unrushed and full of exquisite passion. i believe in that shit.

marriage? not so much.
romance? a lot more.

so i cook, and i don't clean (suck at it, hoping to get better). i have no recipes tonight, no magical cookbook insights to share. what i have is a clarity on who i am. i'm a woman who loves to write, who loves to cook and who loves to feed others with both. and i don't know who to do that for in an intimate way. or, better still, i don't have anyone to do that for and, no, this is not a call to some weird arms for all those folks out there. it's just me saying what i feel. it's not a call for help. trust me. it's just a vent.

let me vent.

it'll come, i suppose, but, in the meantime, i'll play in the kitchen and with words. i'll walk in both worlds and see just how it feels to eat life and enjoy it without worry. i'll try that.

and forget, for awhile, that... well... it doesn't matter. not here.

we'll continue our journey through food and see where we go.
i quite like that.