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Food is all about balance. Not too salty, not too sweet, with just enough spice to knock at the door, but not so much as to overstay its welcome. It’s a push-pull tug of war on the palate, but when the right combination is struck, few other things can compare. Like food, my life right now is about hovering around an invisible median: Be polite, but don’t be a pushover. Be feminine, but don’t be helpless. Be hopeful about the future, but don’t be quick to make plans that are surely subject to change. Be smart, but don’t be a know-it-all. But sometimes I wonder if my middle-of-the-road attitude about everything doesn’t actually inhibit me from being totally passionate about any one thing. Maybe my supposed favor for logic and reasoning is really just a disguise for my fear of total spontaneity. Maybe one day, in a moment of total clarity, I’ll decide the answer. For now, less thinking and more eating. And cooking. But mostly eating.

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7 September 09
“ But please, please—won’t you—can’t you give me something that will cure Mother?” Up till then he had been looking at the Lion’s great feet and the huge claws on them; now, in his despair, he looked up at his face. What he saw surprised him as much as anything in his whole life. For the tawny face was bent down near his own and (wonder of wonders) great shining tears stood in the Lion’s eyes. They were such big, bright tears compared with Digory’s own that for a moment he felt as if the Lion must really be sorrier about his Mother than he was himself.
— The Magician’s Nephew, C.S. Lewis
Themed by Hunson. Originally by Josh