Eating.

Currently I am frantic. It is because school is starting at the end of this month, and so I am beginning to feel the waning warmth of summer. Time. I am one of those hypocrites who think that I have less time than the rest of the human race.
My days are blurring together. From sunrise to sunset, it's light and light and light. I do everything I can. Everything I think I want to. And still I feel pressed. I force myself to sleep at night, but even then I go to bed reciting Keats and fingerspelling the alphabet. It's many things that I am frustrated at not doing, but the truth is,
I just want to make good food.
I wish I could say that my knitting is consuming my thoughts. Or the pine log I have sitting in the shop. Or that little box I was busy staining the other day. Or even my story; that story about the fox that makes me excited every time I think about it, and still needs words. I would lie and tell you that French and sign language are everything in my head these days. Or planning for a Fairy's birthday is taking up my life. And it is all of that.
But mostly it's food.

Three things are driving my desires to eat and bake and cook and create and cover myself in flour and buy insanely expensive ingredients.
One, is Olivia Rae James' blog. That is self explanatory.
Two, is a bridal shower and an orchard wedding. See, it's only been a week or so, and I already kind of miss driving around with two hundred wine glasses clinking around in the back of my van. And the strawberry, corn, and feta salad. I think that was what ruined me. That, or catering with K. Maybe she was my sweetest downfall. We made a pink cake together. And one hundred and twenty croissants.
Three, is a lack of visitors. I was in my car the other night driving home from work, and I just started crying. Pathetic. It was for a mediocre reason. When La left, so did most of the people who visited us. They didn't exactly leave, they just stopped visiting. I don't blame them. They live far away. Some of them got married. And it's not easy coming here. They have lives. But see, I have no friends to make food for. I miss it. I miss surprise drop-ins and huge dutch ovens full of spaghetti and meatballs and sleeping on the floor and waking up to make pancakes and scones and coffee and tea. I miss that. I miss the glad hearts. I miss the kinship and friendship. I miss the late nights and early mornings.
I miss the food.
That sounds stupid. Ridiculous. Childish almost. But it's honest.
I want friends and dinner parties. I want people to feel invited. I want good conversation and good wine and bowls of berries. I want pear tarts with cheese. I want sunrises and dark teas and stargazing and cocoa. I want good food and friends.
I miss people.

If you read this, come visit. I'll make you a pie. Even in all of my busyness and shoved days and oppressive schoolwork looming ahead, I promise I will sit down and eat with you.
It's my favourite. And I miss you. Any of you.

That's all I want these days. Good food and good friends.
And an excuse to make that decadent looking plum cake.