Hard to believe, but I haven't wanted to vacation here. I'm not moved to write—I have found other spots to hang, places to communicate. Other areas for meditation, recharge, and inspiration.
This little place that I've called my very own, well, I've outgrown it. Or, at least, I've turned left at the fork. And food, while it was my main squeeze (mmm, squeeze . . . mustard, ketchup, mayo . . . ), is now a side dish. Still on the table, mind you, but there are other plates in front of me, flavors I want to explore . . . depth that I want to taste and try to describe. Food, as you loyal readers have gathered, was a main topic here, but also a means to delve into philosophical or social issues. And let's be clear: There may be no better spot to broach universal study than at the table (my favorite, the breakfast table).
So. This acknowledged and now expressed, I shall commence with remodeling. Clean up the yard, maybe add a raised bed. No contractors, no middle(wo)men. Just me, my tools. My curiosity, my ideas. The home will stay but the space will change. Hopefully you'll find a room of your own here. Or—at least—you'll find inspiration for yours. There will be a big table out back . . . and I invite you again to join me.