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I am UmberDove.

And by that, I mean an artist.  One who hears stories in the wind, who paints because it is what her soul tells her to do, who smiths because the muse moves through her fingertips, who loves nothing more than the promise of an unexplored trail, the sound of the ocean in her ears, and scent of a serious cup of coffee.


Rather Unimportant Ramblings


Have you seen Julie and Julia yet? Yes, I am ALWAYS a few years behind on all the good movies, and a decade or so on the random ones. Last night I experienced a terrible sense of pure lowliness as I whipped up a one pot dinner of mac and cheese positively overpowered with steamed veggies and then proceeded to watch pound after pound of delectable butter crafted into beurre blanc sauces and oysters slipped from the half shell and teetering soufflés pulled carefully from the oven. My [previously frozen] green beans shook their little arms with envy and the broccoli was forced to mop its sorrows with the sticky mix of milk and cheese in the bottom of the bowl, which is every bit as sad a story as you can imagine.

BC and I were made to eat well; and watching the parade of French cuisine flashing before our eyes was almost enough to make me throw on some heels and drive into the city for second-dinner (it's been known to happen. As well as the infamous "two restaurants in one night" progression. DECADENT, I KNOW. But there is such magic that happens when dining with certain company and the thought of ending the night without a flourless torte or a hunk of bree and a nightcap feels like pure blasphemy. It's the city in me. My favorite dichotomy of pure urban fabulousness alongside the love of the wild). Thank God I at least had fresh strawberries and dark chocolate to save face while I watched the movie over the tops of my fuzzy green slippers.

Which brings me to the subject of MY NEW-FUTURE GARDEN. I've waited these last few city-licious years to say that phrase. I've always done my best with pots of lettuce and vining cucumbers but for the first time in my adult life, there will be real soil. LET THE ANGELS SING HALLELUIA! My green thumb is ripe for the pickin'. I'm ready to start laying out rows and hoeing it up. All my saved seeds from last Summer's farmer's market bounty are hopping around like Mexican jumping beans at the prospect.

I think I'll start marking it out this weekend. As we're making the first drive down to Ca tomorrow. Yes, as in leaving in 18 hours. Holy. Moly. Here we go, it's officially on.