“It’s sweet,” someone recently said of
With a Whisk.
It was intended as a compliment to be sure but it unsettled me and a disconcerting self-doubt crept in.
Was my blog nothing more than a collection of entertaining sentiments, a pleasurable dose of nostalgia, a simple reassurance that if things aren’t okay now, at least they used to be?
I don’t do acomplicatedkindness despair to be sure but I’m not all sunshine and roses, am I, I fretted.
Until a Facebook friend posted a thought, “I think the richness of food descriptions made someone jump to a taste-adjective.”
Thanks Veena, I can live with that.
So here’s to the sweet, sugarcoated, the bittersweet, sweet and sour, syrupy commixture that is my life.
I am indebted to The Bard for my title, Two Gentlemen of Verona, III.ii.85.
(If this posting is the middle panel of my sugar-blog triptych, the following posting, "zockastetja," is the right panel. For the left panel, I have in a mind a story about gingersnaps.)
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