The One In Which I Cry (Friends, I Owe You One)
Dear friend,
Girlllll, I’m feeling my oats. Maybe it’s the fact that our entire family leaves in two weeks for round two of The Italian Job (this time made even more special by the fact that I get to show my parents Italy for la prima volta and also welcome nine guests to our weeklong culinary excursion). It’s going to be an absolute party… or rodeo. I joke. I know it’s going to be wonderful. It’s the packing for four children bit that worries me a little…
Anyway… the Italian Job, round two, just happened to coincide with:
tomato season
my falling in love with watching professional soccer
re-discovering checking out books from my local library
turning 40
the big, bad, brand change of The Elliott Homestead to Shaye’s Italian Kitchen
Suffice it to say, I’m feeling good. (Well, in reality, I actually feel a little exhausted today and I’m writing you these words from the comfort of my bed, in an oversized white t-shirt and no-bra, with a mug of tea at my right hand, and the promise of a soothing bath on the horizon, but you get the idea.) Today, I managed to roll up a few trays of teeny-tiny polpettini (little meatballs) to slip into some beef broth later and clean the school cabinet out. Am I unstoppable?!
I kid, kid. But I am nonetheless grateful for much good that is on the horizon. Our fabulous logo-creator managed to squeeze me (very last minute, I had to beg, and pay) into his busy schedule and just sent me the final logo files for the new brand. (Side note: he has done all of our logos since our inception and they each feel magical to me.) Serie A soccer matches begin next week. The smoke from the fires in BC is beginning to finally lift out of our valley and I can once again see the ridge-line. I’ve been devouring some great fiction as of late (currently reading “Roman Stories” after just finishing “The Latinist”). And I’ve managed to eat tomatoes for every meal today so far.
Last weekend, we had the joy of spending a few days up in the mountains with our church family. The air was clear, the mountains majestic, the waters cool, and the fellowship sweet. Stuart and I filled the bed of the truck with bikes for the kids, coolers of food, sleeping bags… and our home espresso machine. As I hauled the heavy machine out to the truck in my arms, Stuart caught sight of me and laughed. “Are we seriously taking that?” he inquired. Obviously, I was quite serious about the whole ordeal — I’d already packed the grinder and beans. Our cabin had electricity after all, and I saw no reason why we should suffer without beautiful espresso each morning if it was within our power to have it, simply by packing the machine. Yes and Amen.
Stuart laughed, grabbed the machine from my arms, and packed it safely into the car.
Later that day, I tucked my arms into his, wriggled up to his side, and kissed his neck. “Thank you for letting me be fully me,” I said softly. “I’m so grateful that I don’t have to dial it back for you — you let me be who I am and I appreciate it.” He chuckled and kissed me back. He knew I was talking about the espresso machine — and so much more…
I can’t remember now why I’m telling you that story, other than to share with you our new video for this week, in which we continue to delight in tomato season by making bruschetta and also in which I cry (because I’m 40 now and cry way more than I used to as a younger lass) because a clove of garlic reminded me of the value of community, how I unintentionally cut myself off from it, and how YOU ALL gave me the confidence to go forward.
I owe you one.
Love,
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