it fucking snowed



I took half of these photos in front of my apartment while Josh revved the metaphorical engine at me, and the other half once we arrived at his parents’ house in Connecticut. I’m sure I’ll rue these words in a few months when my pipes burst and I’m hauling firewood at 2 am, but my god does a New England snowfall make me believe in magic.

This year I am thankful for an Italian boyfriend whose mother serves lasagna at Thanksgiving, for good hair dye, and for the continued existence of ferrets. (And, y’know, love, shelter, and abundance. But I can take or leave those. 😉 )












i scratched them myself

I just plain like creating things. Often the things in question are outfits. But sometimes, when I’m at my parents’ house and have a decent stove and lots of resources, they are homemade ravioli.

Ravioli are one of my favorite things to eat. I made my own once last summer, but I used rice flour, which didn’t cohere so well. Today I used plain old semolina. And this recipe, except I substituted mozzarella for some of the ricotta. I like the substitution. It makes them (the one I tested, anyway) appealingly springy and chewy.

Cooking is in my blood. My mom’s a baker and pastry chef; my dad’s an experimental gourmet who reads all the food magazines. By the time I’m their age, I’ll probably be as fanatical as they are.

Marinara’s on the stove. I’m about to go watch Martha Marcy May Marlene.

(Yes, the clock is fast. I don’t have time-traveling powers.)