Well, I’m home from Rome, and as always, the transition has been slightly bumpy. There are things that smooth it out – like when my niece Isabella randomly hugged me with all her little might and said, “I love you.”
But there are things I don’t like so much… and one of them is noticing just what a bachelor I’ve become. For instance, I’m embarrassed to admit that I had to call my mother to ask her how to get chocolate stains out of (all) my clothes after chocolate melted in my suitcase. I cannot iron to save my life, and somewhere along the line, I completely forgot how to cook. I can make salad, however, and occasionally cook chicken that I’d never inflict on others.
Being gluten intolerant means that I cannot resort to pasta, and not liking rice means that I never have to embarrass myself by demonstrating that I really can’t manage preparing rice properly. Added to all this is my proclivity to become distracted with work and burn pots and kettles.
Orthodox. Faithful. Free.
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But today I turned a corner:
Actually, Zoe made me do it, since I wanted (her) to make the scones from the Almond Flour Cookbook I gave her, not without my own benefit in mind. Admittedly, they might not look so great, but I think they might actually taste really good.