Another year in the books, another birthversary for Sassy Eats – she is three! (for the official definition of birthversary, read this)
I’m a horrible mom, (yes I just equated my blog to your child, I know it’s offensive, hopefully you know it’s sarcasm). I nearly forgot about this big day. I mean, I actually forgot about this day. A friend of mine reminded me of it – and I’m so glad she did.
This year it’s been difficult to carve out the time I want to for this little place. There was a lot of traveling, a lot of weddings, you know the sob story. With a fulltime gig keeping my head spinning Monday through Friday, this place sometimes gets neglected. But my heart is in this place, irrevocably tied to it, in that big love kind of way.
The days I most don’t feel like cooking, or editing, or writing – they’re most often the days I get the very most juice of it. Yesterday was one of those days. I needed to digest things and after testing and shooting four recipes, I felt like I had kneaded my way through them, extrapolated what I needed from them.
This little-piece-of-my-soul place is what I crave when nothing makes as much sense as it did yesterday. It’s the therapy I need to gain clarity. It lets me simmer on things. It’s satisfies the hankering for a happy place, a place where I can lay out my life and take a rolling pin to it – shaping it into something that in the end looks totally different.
It’s soup for the soul. I hope everyone has a sassy eats in their life. And if you don’t, I hope you find a way to create it.
I was recently on a date and the man had looked at my blog (google, le sigh). he told me that it felt too personal so he didn’t read very much. He said he felt like he needed to know me better before he read anymore. I couldn’t quite decide what that tasted like on my tongue – I know he didn’t mean anything negative by it – but I also know that this place is sometimes (re: all the time) like my diary for the world to read. But I don’t know how to do it any other way and I don’t know that I’d want to.
I’m actually a really private person, not much of a sharer when it comes to the things that make me vulnerable, that have left scars, that really mean something to me. But in my kitchen and writing these posts, I can take whatever it is and with a tablespoon of sugar, a pinch of salt and a large glass of wine – it extricates itself into something delectable.
My hope for this place was that someone might feel like they’ve been invited into my kitchen for a dirty martini and we could swap gossip and as a side, cook up something delicious. That these words might relate to someone and we would forge some quasi internet friendship. That maybe someone would cook one of my dishes and feel really proud of themselves. That they would cook with their mom or their child and in some small part I would be part of making that happen.
Last year, I wanted to be uncomfortable, to push myself. This year, I’m hoping for sprinkles. I want to relish in the here and now, in adventures. I want to take all of the good things in life and savor them, add something a little extra to them. I want to say yes more. I want to prioritize places like this place, that feel like the icing of life. I want to be a part of something bigger. I want a heaping helping of that bigger thing.
I hope you know what it does to my little soul to know that you pay this place a visit. It means more than you know, sunshine. And besides, if you didn’t read it I would just be some narcissistic psycho rambling on about break-ups, first dates and that time I walked straight into a glass wall.
Cheers to year three babycakes!