David Copperfield, Part 2
David Copperfield, Part 2 Well, well, well . . . here we are again. Where did we stop last time? *flips pages of book, contentedly.* Ah yes. Here we are. So to recap, yesterday (ok maybe it was more than…
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Cooking, Creating, and Everything in Between
David Copperfield, Part 2 Well, well, well . . . here we are again. Where did we stop last time? *flips pages of book, contentedly.* Ah yes. Here we are. So to recap, yesterday (ok maybe it was more than…
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David Copperfield We all have that one movie, that one book . . . that one story that we keep coming back to again and again. It haunts us in the very best of ways– it keeps us thinking about…
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Milena I met her through invisible words. When I described the fantastic, almost unbelievable true story of the Kafka Papers a few weeks ago, it reminded me just how incredible this story truly is. We have only Kafka’s half of…
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The Lost Kafka Papers I will never forget my first introduction to Kafka. I was a college English major, taking Early Modern Literature– an incredibly difficult course with gargantuan amounts of required reading for an already “strapped for time” student…
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For The Love of Potatoes “You like potato and I like potahto You like tomato and I like tomahto Potato, potahto, tomato, tomahto. Let’s call the whole thing off.” — George and Ira Gershwin I never intended to start a…
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Strawberry Dreams Strawberries, Strawberries, tumbling down. Strawberries, Strawberries, all here around. Rosy and blushing, enormous or small, Our fingers turn pink as we gather them all. One for the bucket and one for the tongue. Bushels are gathered before…
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Craigslist Capers One of the most interesting jobs I ever had was working for a custom table and furniture making company in Tennessee. I was the only woman at the company, and all of the guys treated me like their…
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What Type of Cookware Should I Buy? When I first started cooking on my own I had a nice, ahem, variety (read: horribly mismatched ménage) of pans in my kitchen. I didn’t know what most of them were– they…
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The Perfect Steak It all started one fine summer evening. The sun was going down, bathing the world in that golden, perfect so-late-I-can’t-believe-it’s-still-light-out glow. I took a walk and smelled . . . it. It was a scent so mouth…
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Blue Evening Supper’s coming on. Praying. Passing. The clinking of silverware. Grateful scraping on plates. Sliding of chairs. Dishwater so hot it steams in the last rays of sun. Everyone helps. 5:30. Unbraiding of hair. Filling the wicker laundry basket…
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