I stayed home from work on Monday for some stupid physical reasons I won’t get into, but had to tell you I finally got around to reading Molly Wizenberg’s A Homemade Life. If you’re going to be home and not capable of moving around at normal speed, there’s nothing better than being able to sit and read through the bulk of a good book all day. (I meant to post this earlier in the week so I could tell you about her reading tonight, if you’re in the Seattle area. Sorry I’m so delinquent and you’re most likely reading this after the fact, but do you know how hard it is to be even remotely faithful to a blog when you can go for days without even wanting to turn on the computer? It sits over in its little nook off the kitchen and sneers at me in disgust at my laziness, I swear. Just like Tony Almeida from 24.)
I’ve always felt such a connection to Molly, as I was calling her like she was an old friend by the time I finished the book, (to Joe’s great confusion––Molly who?) reading her blog, Orangette–– we share the same birthday (although she was born when I was in high school), live in the same area, both have red hair (hers real) and blogs (hers award-winning), love to make food for people and she even has a too-good-to-be-true-sounding husband like mine who keeps her down to earth and whom I bet toasts hazelnuts for her salads like mine does. Besides wanting to roll up my sleeves and cook up some of the delicious recipes she includes at the end of each chapter, (she also has some of these on her blog), I keep thinking about one chapter called Whatever You Love, You Are, after an album title of this band she was listening to, an Australian instrumental group called the Dirty Three. Mostly I’m intrigued by the idea, you know, that we’re all made up of whatever it is we love. I love that. So, I guess now that idea is part of me….
In the very middle of the book at a crucial part of her story, when she’s at her father’s deathbed and I’m struggling to see the words through fat blurry tears, I get to a page that has been ripped down the middle, with no sign of the missing piece! Believe me, I looked and looked. Fortunately, Nathan was home and since he has been living under the influence of Joe, he grabbed up the book and drove to the bookstore, had them replace it, and had it back in my hands before you could say “Lori’s such a spoiled, spoiled thing”. I see it as being loved, though. Always have, always will. So there!
This just in: Hannah called while I was writing this and said she tried one of the recipes in the book and that it was “SO GOOOOOOD!” all gushy and throat-breathy enthusiastic like she does. Glenn’s Banana Bread with Chocolate Chips and Candied Ginger. Can’t wait to try it myself!