My grandmother is downsizing. A couple of weeks ago, she gave me some of her Pope Gosser wedding dishes from 1952. I’ve made it a point to incorporate them into daily life, which, given their delicate prettiness, has been easy. The cups and saucers are a wonderful addition to my tea ritual.
Right now, there are no words. I should be back in a couple of days.
(1 May 1927-15 May 2015)
“Do not indulge in dreams of having what you have not, but reckon up the chief of the blessings you do possess, and then thankfully remember how you would crave for them if they were not yours.”-Marcus Aurelius
Some seriously needed mid-week cuteness…
“One lives in the hope of becoming a memory.”-Antonio Porchia
Detail of a painting of my Grandpa, 1946. He was 19.
…and there’s nothing you can do about it. On a personal level, the only thing that can possibly be worse than watching someone you love die, is knowing that a second someone you love is about to die and that you cannot be with them, too.
…looks like this.
There are no quotes about moving or change that match the happiness I feel deep in my heart. Our new house is 6 1/2 miles away, but it feels like a different world. An opening into something calm and beautiful. A psychological awakening, ripe with satisfaction and intense anticipation. I can, almost, open my clenched fists. Almost.
It wasn’t all tears and boredom whilst my Internet was down. I made this scrumptious Dutch Baby for my mom’s birthday breakfast. If I cannot write, I bake. It’s therapeutic, creative, and opens my writing mind like a fierce, bracing gust of wind.
Easy, gorgeous, and light.
What beautiful berries!
This is no ordinary skillet. No, it has an impressive pedigree. It was purchased, second-hand from a Goodwill, for my mother-in-law by her mother-in-law in 1953. She, in turn, gave it to my husband, The Chef, about 3 1/2 years ago. Before we married, before I became part of its story. Now, by baking this simple Dutch Baby, I’ve joined the line. Melded myself to their family history. Our family history.