My Kitchen Lately

Quinoa cooked in soy milk with fresh cranberries

& of course a big mug of earl grey tea :)

 Vegan Corn Chowder (recipe from Skinny Bitch: Ultimate Everyday Cookbook)

& Sweet Cornbread (recipe from Vegan Diner)

Vegan Avocado Buttercream Frosting (recipe from Joy the Baker)

Dear Husband To Be,

I want a townhouse.


Can we agree on that?


I don't want a big house on acres and acres of land. It's completely unnecessary to me. I don't need a hot tub or a master bedroom. Hell, I don't even need a big kitchen. I don't need a ton of counter space. As long as I can have a set of copper bottomed stainless steel pans hanging from the ceiling, I'll be happy. I prefer a cozy kitchen. Especially one with beat up wooden counter tops.


I simply need a space where we can be happy together. A space where I can have a small office. It doesn't even have to be a "real" office. A little nook in the living room is fine. I simply want a space where we can watch 90's sitcoms on DVD, cuddled on the couch. A space where we can someday put up a Christmas tree in the corner. I simply need a small dining room, so we can host small dinner parties with friends. A space where we can have dinners for two. I simply want to feel that delicious cold of a hardwood floor as I walk down the hall first thing in the morning. A hall where pictures of us will hang on the walls. I simply need a tiny backyard with a good fence so Eleanor Rigby has a place to play. A yard where we can sit on the back steps with Coronas in the summertime. 


I don't want a big house at all. I just want a home for us.

Homesick

Sometimes, I watch Gossip Girl just to view those shots over looking the city at the beginning of every other scene.

And I'm reminded of why I love New York.

Reminded of that feeling I had the first time I stepped off of a train platform in Grand Central Station.

It was no longer a dream.

I was no longer that little girl who kept a stamp of Lady Liberty next to a New York state quarter and a candle that said, "New York City" on it in a shimmery pink glitter. That little girl who dreamed about "the big city."

The orange lighting. the people. my new subway map. dragging my suitcase on the pavement through Chelsea. that moment when I thought to myself this is home.


I go back to that moment every chance I get.

It was the day after Thanksgiving and I was only seventeen-years-old.

Sometimes, that day feels so far away.

Then, I remind myself, I'm still so young. I still have plenty of time to make it my home.