Birthday kitchen light at the house of LoPo.
Smørrebrød. Don’t know how to pronounce it, but I can’t get enough of it.
Rincon, Puerto Rico. Sometime between sunset swimming sessions.
I haven’t been sleeping very well lately. Which explains why I haven’t been cooking so much, or motivated to throw things onto the Internet, or bake pies and take photos of them so 14 year olds can reblog them (or something).
Time is running out. I *might* have to leave San Francisco before the end of the year. Part of me thinks that everything will just work out because San Francisco has been so kind to me for so long.
But part of me is afraid of being complacent, and it’s keeping me up at night.
I’m working as hard as I can to stay. I’m working on not letting my worrying nature get in the way of life. I’m working on making sure life doesn’t get in the way of letting me stay.
Sometimes I would just rather think of summer in Puerto Rico. Where the only thing I had to worry about was when we would have our next tres leches.
