I've read a few decent books (The Piano Tuner and The Thin Place). Both have their merits (though I'm not sure if one of them is necessarily universally perceived by other readers--The Piano Tuner is set in Burma and it made me crave a fermented tea leaf salad like crazy!) but neither made me rush out and recommend them to other folks.
I've started, and abandoned, a few writing ideas, both fiction and non-fiction. But I haven't managed to get that writing-rush that makes the words pour out (not enough caffeine? too much sunshine? lack of life-drama?).
I've almost finished knitting the branching out scarf, but now that my vegetable garden is active, my hands are more occupied with dirty, edible things.
I've made some decent, but not necessarily memorable, food. Here's an example: for Mother's Day I made a very nice picnic (Mother's Day around here is always a little complicated since Brian's and my mom are both in the vicinity and I must find a way to both adore and be adored. So we took the mom's canoing and I made a picnic for afterwards.) There was Gruyere and herb quiche, fresh corn salad and Greek cucumber salad,
followed by vanilla-bean Greek-yogurt panna cotta with honey-wine apricots on top.
Very pretty, quite tasty, but not really ragingly good. I'm sure I'll make another quiche like this one sometime, but is the epitome of all quich-i-ness that requires I share the recipe? Not really.So for now I guess I'll just putter along, hoping that a little drama, hopefully of the positive variety comes my way. Suggestions welcome.
