about face, left face....

let's change directions for a bit. i've grown weary, for a time, of my thinly veiled, grey observations about daily life at the moment. food. it's how i express love. the process, each cut of the knife thru vegetables, carefully selected. the blend of herbs and spices, just right...the way the cream and butter and garlic and wine swirl together forming a culinary heaven. the crackle of a chewy bread, with a bubbly crust that makes a huge, delicious mess when sliced. the way love and food come together to form comfort, or refreshment or just what you needed at that moment. now...the rub....the people i cook for--a preschooler, a toddler and a man who, bless his heart, has seared his tastebuds and sense of smell with paint fumes (to clarify, he's not a freaky inhaler, he spent years in the automotive paint industry). my love falls on empty mouths. joe tries to appreciate. he really does, but my carefully thought out, blend of herbs, dashes of spices...go unnoticed, or pronounced flavorless. i should say, they aren't flavorless...but you see what happens. if i don't catch myself, and remind myself of my tough crowd, i get hurt. i'm so connected to nurturing, that to feel like i've fallen short is difficult for me. i recently decided that i'm going to cook, my intentions are clear, and if my efforts go unheralded with sighs of delight, it's okay. i'll do the sighing.