Select Page







My Imperfect Perfect: Ima Gina Tion

My Imperfect Perfect: Ima Gina Tion

The branches of the trees outside the window behind the piano have assembled themselves in the wind to look like a begging dog, all wobbly and shaking while jumping up and down for a treat. Then just as quickly as if I said, “No, Fannie, not now,” they are still. When...

Imperfectly Perfect?

Sunday night, a good mystery, a fire in the fireplace…I stare at the flames and think of cooking–both need the right balance of timing, heat and attention. I hadn’t planned a dinner party in a while. Making plans is not my preferred way of doing...

Pin It on Pinterest