Valentine's Day (reprise)

I woke early. Grabbed some fleece. Flipped on the space heater in the kitchen. Retrieved the Christmas panettone from the sink, a half loaf that had been frozen and had defrosted overnight. When they were up, I served Chris and Annabella some panettone French toast, dusted with powdered sugar, garnished with a few orange slices, warmed maple syrup in a pitcher on the table. Happy Valentine's Day.

It was then I remembered that last year's Valentine's morning--the David Eyre pancake (incidentally also dusted with powdered sugar)--had made it into the blog. Which is to say, I've had this blog for a year.

Back then it was the mad scurry to get ready for the trip. There was so much to learn, so much to prepare. Back then I couldn't entirely believe I was going to travel 7,500 miles across the country. But I made reservations, researched locales, laid out routes, and did my best to keep manifesting. And it worked out. I made the trip. It wasn't without its costs--in ways I expected (money, time) and ways I didn't. But I arrived safely home on the other side of it, a little plumper, a little broker, a little more tired, but with lots of stories.

May I admit that for as hard as I worked getting ready for the trip and traveling, what's far more daunting is actually writing the book? If there's something to blog about now it's that -- a book is a big, long, challenging thing that I am learning how to do. But it now has a (working) title: Jennie Slept Here: Following my grandmother from Bridgeport to the Brown Derby (and back)

And I've still got good reason to get up early on Valentine's morning to make something special to be eaten, on the run, at the yellow table in the kitchen.