The blog is certainly another tool for writers out there to break their way in. But being a blogger does not make you a great writer.

You can never have too much, butter.

So the end may be a long time coming, but that doesn't mean it doesn't have a way of sneaking up on you.

Sometimes, if you want to be happy, you've got to run away to Bath and marry a punk rocker. Sometimes you've got to dye your hair cobalt blue, or wander remote islands in Sicily, or cook your way through Mastering the Art of French Cooking in a year, for no very good reason.

It's sad, but a relief as well, to know that two things so closely bound together can separate with so little violence.

The nice thing about having a friend who is crazier than you are is that she bolsters your belief in your own sanity.

Physically it's exhausting to cook every night. Existentially speaking, I have so much more energy having that time to myself in this project, this gift to myself at the end of the day. Even if it didn't go smoothly, it was still a gift.