There is a photo of me – age 8 – holding hands with a blonde, round-faced little girl: we are both wearing long white dresses and veils, on the day…
Month: August 2017
I find more and more excuses not to go into Santa Monica in the Summer – this year seems to be worse than ever, with throngs of people to rival Venice, Italy, traffic that snarls at snail’s pace and fellow drivers ready to knife any rivals for a parking spot. As far as I am concerned, I can wait to go to Santa Monica until next October.
If it seems like I am on a gluten-free pizza quest, it is entirely coincidental. When I want pizza, I eat real pizza (or make it at home). But I do love different bases for different toppings. This week it was the turn of chickpeas flour, in an effort to use up the different flours I buy, experiment with once and then sit in my pantry until I happen to remember them.
I am not a great writer. Not a particularly good one either but I do have a firm belief – even utter reverence – for words. Whenever I come across a beautiful sentence, a string of words arranged in an unusual or striking manner, I can bask in it at length, reading and re-reading it, going back to it, letting it swirl in my head. Sometimes I can be more attached to individual sentences than to a whole body of work.