Idling

I spy my girlfriend through a narrow crack between the living room and kitchen doors. It's only a crack because my line of sight, while reclining on the couch, allows me only about a six inch wide portal. I see about quarter of the red Kitchenaid mixer (currently set to medium speed), a bit of counter top, and the rest is all umbrellas and chairs. The Wedding Singer is on the television, but I'm not really interested as I've seen it way too many times. Oh, Jon Lovitz! ... Ok back.

What made me want to write about this? Because every 40 seconds or so I am treated to the delightful sight of my lovely girlfriend hard at work mixing up some wonderful concoction that I can't wait to try. Today it happens to be a pomegranite and poached quince sponge cake.

Although I can only see about 2/3 of her back through my little porthole, every so often I catch a glimpse of her beautiful profile (she looks so cute in her glasses). Every time she makes an appearance, like the marquee star of a Broadway play making her first, long-awaited entrance from stage right, I'm filled with a warmness that is only matched by the heat radiating from the pre-heated oven (350 degrees Fahrenheit) and by writing about I hope to capture this feeling and linger in it a while longer as I try to find the words with which to describe it (and doing a poor job of it (a wordsmith I am not)).

That is all. Carry on.