a love letter from late august

dear apartment number 2,

thank you for not judging me last night after dinner when i decided to make a semi-homemade turkey bacon hawaiian pizza on trader joe's pizza dough that was about to expire just so that i could have cold pizza in the morning. also thank you for not thinking i'm crazy when i imaginary asked you if i was adding too much pineapple. 

i love the way you make that sound when your dishwasher is on. it's soothing and earthy. it's a sound i've only ever heard at home, in chicago, so it makes me feel at home... and i love falling asleep to that sound.

i love your sun. 

and your other inhabitants, the way one has an instagram machine attached to his hand so that i can worry less about remembering to take pictures of my food, the way the other has impeccable taste in tea cups and pepper relish. 

you are the reincarnation of heath ledger. the mustard to my pretzel.



i spy...

{a rosh hashanah party aftermath}

i spy with my little eye...
the remnants of the best sweet potato chips in the world,
the salt and pepper shakers that mum and i painted for my first little apartment on a hot summer night about a zillion years ago,
oven mits covered in brisket fat,
roommate's patrick literature that will always be way over my head,
an empty olive oil bottle that was full just hours earlier,
a strainer and a cutting board that belonged to old roommate grace. oh, i miss me some grace!
apples and honey, some turnips that went unused, popsicle molds from the i-don't-know-where-these-go pile,
and a generic grocery store pepper mill because for some reason i still do not have one of these. {it's called a housewarming present, people?}

but as mum always says, 
"a messy kitchen is a happy kitchen!"



the problem with being in love with my new apartment is that there are just too many fantastic looking restaurants that i can't be arsed to try on account of why shouldn't i stay in my sunny kitchen all day and cook all of the things that pass through my stream of consciousness? corn muffins with bacon and apples for donny and mo? ok. almond chocolate meringues? yes. brunch for craig? oh yes absolutely omg yes craig was in town and we ate eggs and split a pumpkin whoopie pie.

and then yesterday a thought arouse that was something along the lines of: i am going to be single for as long as i live in this apartment because with the amount that i love this place, how can i possibly love another thing, such as a human being?

perhaps this is what we call "taking this too far."


i live in brooklyn now

{a brooklyn pie, a brooklyn biscuit, a perfect brooklyn breakfast}

in the middle of my summer travels i, for a quick second, returned to the city slightly homeless and determined to find the perfect little dwelling in my favorite outer borough. i didn't. i found the perfect large dwelling {!!} and it only took two emotional breakdowns and one box of frozen ikea rösti.

glorious is an understatement. i want to puke in excitement. it's the perfect venue for tea parties and brunch parties and dare i say it midnight dinners.

everything is a short bike ride away. my kitchen has enough counter space to make five pies at once. i'm even thinking about joining a food co-op!!

what do we think when we sign leases on tiny upper side closets?

and i can't wait to make this finally happen.