Some days I feel like a roving reporter. And today I even had my film camera on hand. These sweet little houses on Libbie Avenue are destined for tear down to make room for something—most likely far less adorable. As workers marked the utility lines for digging and demolition, I pulled over to take pictures. For half an hour, I was transported back in time to the neighborhood where I grew up in my own tiny house. A neighborhood where we played Red Light, Green Light and Mother May I or Hot Potato until the summer sun went down or the mosquitoes threatened to eat us alive. A neighborhood where we road bikes in the street and turned the swing set into a fairy castle. I’m not nostalgic for old times, just happy to have lived them.
I might make a strawberry rhubarb upside down cake. I cut out a recipe from a Martha Stewart magazine from 2005 (picked up from the library book sale for free). Or maybe I’ll make a fruit crisp, like this one from Cup of Jo. I’ve made peace with sugar and dessert sounds good. My recovery from disordered eating has been a long journey and I trust that my body can handle eating sweet foods. Eating is pleasurable and joyful once again.
