little sarah Big World

Hey, Guys

Hey, guys. Hey, Friends. Guess what I just did?

I just became a dot-com., to be specific.

That’s me.

The Way to a Man’s Heart

…is through his stomach. Or so they say. They way to MY heart is through a man’s amazing culinary skills. I find men who can cook all that much more attractive.

Problem is…we are not great cooks. We are bakers, mostly. But we are learning. We totally roasted zucchini the other night. Yes, we did that.

Nevermind that for even the most novice cooks, roasting veggies is something that can be done without too much thought or planning, whereas we definitely had to check online for oven temperature. Maybe we thought that 325°F would be enough. Maybe we sauteed mushrooms, onions, and fake sausage before adding them to a jar of pasta sauce and called it cooking. Yes, we did that.

Also, feta cheese. Lots and lots of feta cheese. That is probably the easiest way to earn my love.

The other way to my heart is to support my merienda habit, which Kevin does. Frequently. Like this:

I sent him a text saying that I would kill for a morning bun from Tulie and returned home, sweaty and cranky from a noon-time run, to find iced coffee and streusel from the coffee shop around the corner. Plus ice water. Ice water is our new greatest pleasure. Before that it was popsicles.

We are not great cooks, but we are a pretty good match.

By Any Other Name

I dreamed I had a name that was not my own. Of course, I don’t remember what it was. Something fitting, I remember, in fact so fitting that I’d forgotten for a while that I’d ever been called anything else.  But then I remembered, and I wanted to go back. I missed being Sarah with an H.

Kevin doesn’t put much stock in dreams, but I do. Things have been changing for me. I’ve given up on some old dreams, some old friends. And while I know it’s necessary, to shed this old skin so that I can move forward, it’s hard. Hard to say goodbye, to let go. And I do miss the Sarah I used to be, sometimes, naïve though she was.