Last night, we dined on lobster. By we, I mean everyone else but me because I’m not obsessed with lobster nor do I enjoy lobster goo all over my pajamas (I always wear pajamas to dinner). My cat, the lovely Jethro, got to meet his lobster friends before they were steamed in a wine broth (a nice way to go).
This is the picture story of what happened.
“What are these things?”
So I took the summer off. To work and relax and drink rosé with my cat. That does not mean I wasn’t baking! I was. Most definitely. I also got into arguments about the inherent misogynistic message in Grease but thats another story.
What was I baking? Tarts and cakes and cookies and so much ice cream. I didn’t have a hungry audience of half-starved college kids to feed, but I did have a bunch of hungry chefs to feed. And they appreciated my attempts at interesting ice cream flavors far more than my collegiate cohorts. The favorite flavors so far? Honey-Thyme (which interestingly everything thought I had named Honey Time to be clever, but I’m not clever), Basil White Chocolate, Absinthe (which we ate early on a Saturday morning before a huge rush of taco lovers), and the pièce de resistance, Ginger White Chocolate.
I don’t know why, but I felt the need to take a month off. A month to have my one job be selling tacos. I made a lot of food, a lot of tasty food, but I didn’t want to document it, I didn’t want to take perfect photos or take imperfect photos and then feel as if I couldn’t write about it.
I wanted to make food to make food. I made goat cheese cheesecake and white chocolate and basil ice cream. I made cakes and cookies for my work fellows, who were greatly appreciative. I also caught up on Pretty Little Liars and started watching Orange is the New Black. So all in all a productive month for me. Right?
My father left me alone this weekend. Again. Although this time I didn’t get his fancy car, just my lovely little Volkswagon Beetle that makes a plethora of terrifying noises and really doesn’t like chilling in first gear in Newport traffic.
I’m also working both Saturday and Sunday at The Shack, which means the poor kitties will be sad and lonely all day.
This is what happens to the cats when they are alone all day.
There is something truly wonderful about this weekend though (not that I don’t love working) and that is rosé.
I am an introvert. I enjoy being an introvert. I like to sit next to my cat and write about food. I also like to sit next to my cat and read books. Or watch Arrested Development. Anything really, as long as its just me and my cat.
He’s into the sound of silence.
Being an introvert doesn’t mean I don’t like people. I love them and I have a small number of close friends that I cherish more than anything in the world besides Jethro. I’m quite happy to spend almost all of my time with them, because being with them, I don’t need to entertain. I can sit silently or be aggressively chatty or eat more cheese than any of them and it doesn’t matter.
But people I don’t know? That’s another story.
I’ve graduated! I’m done! No more classes, no more registering for classes, no more grades, no more papers, no more readings. No more nothing. Well besides the real world and a real job eventually.
I start work immediately, but I luckily somehow have three days off my first week. This means I have three days to sit in the sun (actually will be rain) with a lot of sunscreen and a cat.
And three days to drink sangria (and gin and tonics if I’m in the mood). Along with my sangria, I’ll probably serve some nice cocktail foods. I’m a grazer, not a meal eater, so I tend to snack all day on little things. I’m at home so I’m going to allow myself to splurge on items like burrata and fancy prosciutto. Because why not?
Last Friday, my friend Emily turned 22. Emily is my poet friend. Literally. She likes to spend evenings with a glass of wine, writing poems. We met because we were both interested in The Pop Culture of Early Modern Europe, one of my favorite class topics at Hopkins. I like witchcraft and charivari and carnivals and all those fun things. Also my favorite childhood story was called Cat’s Carnival. Go figure.