i have now looked back 3 times to make sure it’s only been two years. i swear, it’s been longer. it’s been longer since i stood in that kitchen and the rejection of the idea concrete-d this little place in my heart, irrevocably – thankfully.
i’m relieved i’m here. that i’m still doing this. that it’s not still year one. year one was terrifying. i was afraid of being judged, of being laughed at, of no one liking it.
now, frankly my dear, i don’t give a damn.
ok fine, i still care a lot. i still want people to come here and feel like they’re leaving with something. whether it’s a recipe, a tip, a good laugh, or a story they can totally commiserate with – i want people to feel like they can relate.
a friend of mine texted me a few weeks ago and told me that when he reads my blog, it feels like i’m sitting right next to him talking to him. i write the same way i talk. a gigantic never-ending run on sentence underscored with blatant sarcasm (he didn’t say that, i am).
it was a huge compliment (it doesn’t take much). that’s exactly as i hope this place is. i hope it feels like we’re cozy on the couch, with our legs wrapped under us, having a glass of wine together. because this whole blog thing is so blatantly narcisstic. i talk about myself all day. and tell you inane stories about first dates gone wrong and running into glass walls. so if we can’t have a good time, what’s the point?
even when i don’t know what i’m going to say, and i don’t feel like cooking or editing photos – once i saddle up to the counter and turn on some music – my heart softens. it sighs. my mind quiets and the worries of the day melt away, if only temporarily. and sometimes, that’s all you need.
writing has always been my therapy and i’m so glad i found the gumption that day, in that kitchen, when that man looked me dead in the eye and laughed when i told him i wanted to start this blog, i’m so glad i created it anyway.
maybe that’s what i’ve learned most – you can’t always go trying to find your happy place, the place that feels like home for your heart, sometimes you jut have create it for yourself.
i’m going to try to make this shorter than julia child’s cookbook so i’ll just say this: thank you for being here. from the nooks and crannies of my soul, it means something to me. something more than you probably think.
this year, i’m going to try to get better – to push myself. stretch out a bit. be uncomfortable. and relax into that feeling. that’s what i’m hoping for this year. to spend as much time as possible being really uncomfortable.
should be fun.