I write of hunger

Two beautiful days in a row! Maybe even three if I could remember that far back. Yesterday the sun blazed and so we got busy getting the patio furniture out - yeah! The swing is enabled. We puttered around outside until we had everything arranged.

I pulled out my book, a charming one about the early winter gatherings in 1970s in the South of France of some of the great chefs: M.F.K. Fisher, James Beard, Julia Child, and a few others that I hadn’t heard of. They talked about food and French cooking and wine and how they related (or didn’t relate) to American cooking. Some were snobs, while others (Julia & MFK) were moving towards a more attainable food.

Anyway, I stretched out with the book and gorged myself on excerpts of food talk until my plate was clean. So much good food! I was inspired to unearth some chicken legs from the freezer for a chicken with lemon and olive supper.

I finished the book and wondered what I’d read next.

Today I ended up settling on ‘the Diary of Anne Frank’ which at first glance seems like a good book to read. I’d read it years and years ago and remember enjoying it so I downloaded an excerpt. I haven’t even finished the download and have decided that it’s not for me. From the first page I’ve felt almost on the verge of tears - after all, I know how it ends, and it doesn’t bear thinking about. I think that at this stage of my life, especially since I’ve been borderline lately, I should forego such emotional reads. I’ll be deleting it from my tablet.

Carm was gone at the crack of dawn with irons and woods safely stored in the car. The second golf day was a day for celebration!

Still no green day.

I keep forgetting to mention the lovely evening I spent on Friday with some of the ladies of our neighborhood. Sue and Barb hosts a champage night - girls only! It was great fun.

“Like most humans, I am hungry...our three basic needs, for food and security and love, are so mixed and mingled and entwined that we cannot straightly think of one without the others. So it happens that when I write of hunger, I am really writing about love and the hunger for it...”
~M.F.K. Fisher