it's hard to believe that summer is more than officially over. the autumn chill has set in. the farmers markets are now decorated with warm colors from seasonal squash, pomegranates and apples. the thanksgiving issues of all my cooking magazines have all arrived. my only question is where the hell have i been?
two and a half months have passed since my last post. in this time, i went on a fabulous trip to kalispell, montana where fourteen of us pretended we were back at summer camp. then worked too many hours in my day job. then celebrated one marriage after another back east (the late 20's shit my biological clock is now a ticking time bomb phase has apparently suddenly hit my friends). and then doom hit . . . i turned 27. by this time next year, i won't be able to say, "i'm in my mid-20's." instead it'll have to be, "i'm in my late-20's, my friends are all getting hitched, but i'm still boozing it up at the open bar?"
let's hope not.
the night of my 27th birthday, tim asked me, "what are your goals for your 27th year of life?" the panic this question elicits is only rivaled by the question, "when do you plan on giving me grandchildren?" which lately also happens to be my mother's favorite question. but being the type-a overachiever that i am (though obviously a bad one because a real type-a overachiever would have every milestone in her life mapped out), i had to say something. burdened by the guilt of being the most delinquent food blogger alive, i answered that i'd love to work at being a real food blogger this year - give "the petite pig" a new look / feel / get some developer in eastern europe to re-fashion it for cheap (though who are we kidding? the ukrainian hryvnia is probably more valuable than the american dollar). my second answer was get my ass to boot camp but considering the fact that i've had 2 six mile training runs (two months ago) for a half-marathon i'm doing next week, my discipline level is, um, well could use some help too (though i do worry about cellulite and muffin tops way more than the ticking time bomg of infertility) . . .
so enough with the self-deprecation. eat with me. let's at least kick-start my 27th year with something i do do well - cook.
(recipes to come in later blog posts . . . all coming very, very soon)