Found Recipes

Dear Libby,

I'm not sure I have ever told you this, but I am a total NPR nerd.  I listen to it every time I am in the car.  I love it because while it is a news source, I am just as likely to get a human interest story about bird watching or a quick lecture on the negative effects of plutonium in my water source.  I realize that makes me not very fun sounding.  But, maybe the following will make up for that.

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True Love: A tale of two granolas

Hi friend!!!

As you know, Tygh and I celebrated our tenth anniversary last week.  As in, 10 years of being married.  Ten years of “Pookey” and “Schnookums.”  Ten years of “Yes, dear ” and “Of course, my love.”  Essentially, ten years of perfect harmony and bliss.

Or, at least something very close.

Yes.  It was perfect. For awhile.  But then something important happened - something that changed everything.   Something that I feared would break us.

Last week, Tygh confessed to me that there was something he’d been thinking about for awhile.  Something he’d been dreaming about quietly, behind my back.  Something he’d even researched a bit when I wasn’t home.

In lieu of eating our usual, amazing, perfect morning granola – our granola quotidienne – the one we have been enjoying for years – Tygh had recently decided he was ready to try something new.  A different granola.  With different ingredients.  With…with…dare I say it?  With quinoa.

Quin-whaaaaaaat?

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Pain Maman

Please be honest.  Because much of my confidence as a parent is riding on this.  What does Dash eat?  Like, on any given day?  Is it, like, the same 10 foods? 

Because, try as I might – with exposure (we try to eat all manner of things in any given week – from vindaloo to cheesy grits), involvement (I’ve been known to bake multiple batches of cookies in one day just to get June in the kitchen measuring and “enjoying” the art of cooking), gentle “one-bite-of-everything-on-your-plate-regardless-of-whether-or-not-it-makes-you-gag” rules, and, embarrassingly, the old “no-dessert-until-you-try-whatever-it-is-I-have-made-goddamn-it” ultimatum – the kid always ends up eating the same damn things.

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