Jennifer Is…

Van Morrison’s mama said there’d be days like this. Mrs. Morrison was right. When they come, they smack hard. I don’t think my mood today really quite fits with “depression” – I prefer the quaintly vague “melancholy”. Doesn’t that lovely adjective conjure images of Victorian ladies, all bustled and corseted, discreetly spiking their afternoon tea with laudanum – all of them knowing that each other is hiding, but all feigning polite happiness nonetheless? Anyway, despite the sun and relatively warm temperature, I’m full of a gnashing discontent.

Cancer Mise En Place

In the June bug dusk between the close of my penultimate semester of culinary school and the naissance of the rainiest summer in Maine’s recent history, my 5-year old daughter was diagnosed with leukemia. Suddenly, life became alarmingly different – I quit my summer chef job, we were hospitalized to begin Amelia’s intense chemotherapy regimen, the counter-surfing puppy’s obedience classes were cancelled (and yet to be rescheduled-more to come on that story), and my family’s diet of Farmer’s Market victuals and Slow Food fare transformed to bland hospital chow and expensive organic convenience foods.