I feel like a food writer today- sipping coffee, eating french onion soup for breakfast, putting thoughts about life and food into words.
Saturday or Sunday (never both- one will always be reserved for running/snowboarding) is the only day I am able to capture the morning sun in my photos. Therefore, last night, I made a bold move. While I was reveling in the end of the work week, savoring leftover meatballs and red wine, indulging in fantasies over cookbooks, chefs, and inspirational stories, I abruptly decided to leave this world and do something about it. Yes, I think about food all day long – what recipes to try, what flavors go together – but without action these dreams stay stagnant. For too long, I had been thinking about this soup and needed to get it off my chest – my old roommate made it about a year ago and the memory has stayed with me since. I also had a ton of house cleaning to do, so I figured I could multitask. And I did. And I’m eating French Onion Soup for breakfast. And it’s damn good. All because of a small step to change the course of my day.