Thursday, February 28, 2013

Lawdamercy, Y'all . . .

Lawdamercy, y'all. 

Really, that pretty much sums it up right now.

See, a huge tree fell on my apartment building two days ago and it's basically a condemned space with no power - indefinitely - from which the four units in my little section were evacuated with extreme haste. Fortunately, no one was hurt (APD and AFD said it was lucky no one was killed!) and it's the first time I've been truly grateful I live on the ground floor (what's a little noise from upstairs neighbors who walk in heels on wood floors when your apartment is NOT the one that gets a tree in the living room, right??).

We can go back in to collect things, but don't know when we'll be back for real. This is incredibly inconvenient (especially when, like me, you have a pet and need to find suitable temporary accommodations) - and wasteful when you've just filled the fridge. The awesome Boy and I are going to clean out the fridge and freezer this morning - before, you know, the cranes come to complete the tree removal - and get me some stuff for at least three to seven days . . . Sigh.

And my fridge was looking so nice just before the fall . . .


First world problems, I know . . .

Yours,
Love Bites,
Carrie Neal

Friday, February 22, 2013

Food. Is. Love.

Food. Is. Love.

Indeed.

In many ways - some good, some not so much - it is.

I've been a bit distracted in various ways recently but when I realized it had been almost a month since I posted here, I realized that one of the things that anchors me - even when I'm not feeling well, or I'm busy or stressed or - whatever - is food. It's likely been this way my whole life, growing up Southern as I did, or having dealt with eating issues or eventually expanding my palate extremely and developing a love for food and related adventures that truly inspires me . . .

Which leads me to the original premise: Food. Is. Love.

I was reminded of this yesterday, when I had a rough morning and the sweet Boy met me for lunch after. I can get easily annoyed when orders are some version of wrong (that's material for another post) but he is exceptionally patient with me when I get "that way." His hand on my knee when our (not-very-good) waitress brought out something a little off - it calmed me, and all was right. I more needed to commune with him conversationally - though he did enjoy the repast.

A little fried zucchini and I was ok - I do still have that leftover pasta . . .


Ultimately, the food (this time, at least) was a backdrop to our connection. No waitresses or staff were harmed in the visit, and CN was talked down from the ledge. For that, I owe him thanks -he fed me, in just the way I needed then.

Food for thought.

Yours,
Love Bites,
Carrie Neal