What a Week

I have had the busiest, most wonderful week. Sunday through Wednesday, I was in Washington D.C. for the national finals of Poetry Out Loud. I coordinate the program for Idaho and it’s the most rewarding and thrilling thing to be part of. This was my sixth year with the program, but only my second attending the national event. It was hard to be away from Aurelia for so long, but she didn’t seem to mind my absence while she was doted upon by her grandparents.

I got other work done in my hotel, did a bit a sightseeing by foot, and of course, ate very well. The opening banquet was a Mediterranean feast I didn’t feel comfortable photographing in the midst of the elegant first gathering. My dinners the following three days were eaten alone, in casual places, with total pleasure.

Chicken empanadas with house-made chipotle mayo with grilled asparagus and a heafty half a lemon. Sangria with red wine, apples, and oranges. Finally finishing the brilliant An Everlasting Meal by Tamar Adler.

Chicken tortilla soup with tortilla crisps, cilantro, and goat cheese. Spinach salad with pecans, dried cranberries, gorgonzola, and apples.

Gyro salad with lamb, kalamata olives, tomatoes, cucumbers, feta, peppers, herbs, lemon juice, and olive oil on lettuce. Starting The History of Love by Nicole Krauss

Thursday I was back and worked in my office a long day to make up for being gone. I’m preparing a Local Food Guide of food producers and supporters in the area. This is exactly the sort of work that fills my heart up and gives me energy. That evening, Aurelia and I went to the farmers market, met all the farmers, and bought raspberries. It’s heartening to see the market growing and being an entertaining draw in such a small community.

Friday I was all nerves for half the day until I picked up my dear friend (who is more than a dear friend to me) from the airport. He’s been gone half the year and the moment I saw him, the weight of waiting just fell off my chest. We had the loveliest reunion and I am still trying to understand how I got so lucky to have him in my life.

All the metaphorical eggs I’ve put in precious few baskets are still there. I feel much practicality  is out of reach, but at least my heart is sound and beating hopefully.


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