Wow. This might just be the strangest post I’ve ever written on ALFS. So much so that it’s been on my mind since our permit was released and in my drafts for weeks. Just sitting there. Taunting me that it must be written. I mean, hey, I’m primarily a food blogger – suddenly I’m going to have no kitchen? Some explanation is in order here.
Then I started to sift through the last six years of photos to select one for the post. Photos of wild haired L when he was two, sitting at the peninsula counter, munching on a banana.
Photos of B as a newborn, propped up on my shoulder as I attempted to get dinner going during the dreaded witching hour.
Photos of B and L together, coloring on the floor, tripping me every time I’d shift positions to get a different pot, spoon, ingredient, or spice. Photos of L helping me cook, photos of B messing it all up. Photos of a super chubby B in his high chair chowing down on pot roast while his eyes never once left his big brother over at the counter.
Photos of happy moments and sad moments and messy moments and impressive moments and failed moments. Because it all happens in the kitchen, right? At least it does in our home and I suppose that’s why it’s so incredibly hard for me to let this one go. Tears, really.
I know I’m going to have better. The best, really. We’ve designed and purchased our dream kitchen: signed, sealed, and delivered (well, almost). There’s no turning back. But that doesn’t neccesairly equal happiness. Sure, it’s all nice… grand, really. But what I’m really looking forward to, what I’m aching to have start, is the memories that occur in that new kitchen.
So while the La Cornue rocks so much I can barely sleep, and I can’t wait to cook this summer stew in this pot, what I’m really looking forward to are the moments of life, not the cooking, that occur in the new kitchen in our home. The great report cards brought home, and the double play in baseball stories, and the sad day at recess and up all night growing pains, and the big big big decisions at M’s work, and the frantic typing on my Mac as I try to get one more sentence written for a killer new recipe while B pulls at my leg to bring me outside to pitch.
Because, while great food is my world, nothing compares to those moments. Nothing. I’m going to be a bit, well, lost in my own home over these next 4-6 weeks. I know life will go on as normal butI can’t wait for our life to be back in the… kitchen.
And with that, my old kitchen is signing off, friends. I have some reserves to keep ALFS moving along, but expect a bit more lifestyle posts until we are back up and running in the kitchen. Fingers crossed for July 2nd, please. Toes too if you’re able.