I could talk about the beautiful eggplant Parmesan I made tonight- the custardy slabs of eggplant, the salty acidity of the fresh tomato sauce, the meaty hot mozzarella, and sopping up its juices with crusty Italian bread.
I could tell you about the sexiest jelly I've ever eaten in my life, the Concord Grape and Walnut Conserve that I made myself and canned myself, or the thick buttery lemon curd I made.
I could tell you about all the lovely foods I've made, lingered over, planned, crafted and devoured. The pear jelly that burbles even now on the stove.
Or the way Tristan is growing, the physical and emotional and psychological leaps and bounds. How he is emerging from those chubby little baby parts into a sweet, giving little toddler who likes to help mommy clean up ( ha ha!) and who LOVES throwing everything into the garbage pail or the toilet bowl. Somewhere in my tiny apartment is a toilet lock that I desperately need.
Tristan is teething, so gobs of pale green snot are flubbering out of his cute nose. He blows his nose, now, too, which is pretty funny. Today, while cooking, he asked to be picked up, watched me and then swooped low to kiss me on the mouth! Whoa! talk about a sweet little surprise!
A woman from Persia once said, in an exquisite voice, "His skin is like milk." and she is very right. I like to think that she meant more than it's color or creaminess. I like to think that if milk could become flesh, Tristan is what it would be like. Sigh.