I sit on the left, she sits on the right. We have an unspoken agreement about which side of the backseat we sit on. Even after decades, Sissy and I sit in these informally assigned spots. Whether it’s a cab or our family car, it would feel wrong if we didn’t.
Most of the time you don’t realize all the ways you revert to your childhood self when you’re in your family environment. I think we’d be surprised (or horrified) to learn all the ways we do. The backseat assignment is a mild example of this.
Now that I’m a Missourian, I don’t make it back to my childhood home as often as I once did, but I make it a point to return every fall. October is already the best month of the year, and it’s amplified by being along the northernmost edge of the Badger State. I feel bad for people who have to share their autumnal activities with flannel-clad hordes who’ve piled into their QX80s in hopes of capturing the most Instagrammable … Read the rest
I don’t typically regret things. I’ll critique myself mercilessly on how I could have done or said something differently, but ultimately, no regrets. However, there is one thing I’m borderline regretting…and it has to do with bread.
It’s been nearly two months since we returned from our trip to Italy, and while every place we visited cast a spell on me, I’ve been daydreaming about one thing. I wish I could rewind time and go back to Liguria – the northwest coast Italy- not just for the mountains, colorful villages and fresh fish, but for the focaccia. The folks in this part of Italy can bake the crap outta some focaccia, and I wish I spent more time eating it and learning the secret of what makes it so incredible.
In our Cinque Terre wanderings, we passed countless storefronts showcasing the bumpy bread in their windows. Plain, tomato, olive, onion, pesto…they were pretty to look at, but not what our taste buds were pulling us toward. (Side note: My taste buds screamed for what I … Read the rest