My friend Roberta does these lovely little blog chats as if you were besties, sitting across from each other at your favorite coffee house with your drink of choice. I love these little posts, they’re so personal and friendly. So being that I haven’t really gotten creative in the kitchen or with my camera lately, I thought I’d give it a try. On any other given day I’d probably just order a small dark roast, but on such occasion with time to indulge I think I would order a mocha (that is to say chocolate in flavor- not regionally specific coffee beans) but of course with skim, because obviously calories matter. You probably noticed that I limped over to the table with a cane, trying to balance the purse on my shoulder and carry a coffee without trying to draw more attention to myself by spilling it. I still haven’t gotten the knack of making it all look smooth and seamless. You see, I still have a rather large lump on the left side of my backside from my recent fall down the stairs. It is rather obvious, so I’d probably try to crack a joke. Maybe ask to find a table for three? You, me and my hematoma. When we would go to sit at our café table I should probably squirm a little on the wooden chair. Ugh. Naturally, I wouldn’t want to bore you with the details of the fall, I’d want to know what was new with you! And you would be so gracious, I’m sure, going along like nothing was out of the ordinary. You would talk about life and the weather… how warm it’s been and how you’ve been spending the summer.

In turn, I’d tell you how great the summer started off, camping in our new travel trailer and visiting my parent’s cabin in Michigan’s upper peninsula. I’d probably complain about how I have no good pictures to prove any of it. I might share with you the exciting news that we purchased a vacation home off of Lake Michigan, but cry to you about not being able to spend any time there -since all I do is try and mend my aching bum. You would assure me that there is plenty of time for that ahead. And I would agree with you that I know you’re right… as I wince from the annoying pain from this darn bump that keeps pushing on my nerve endings. Then I would probably tell you about the frustration of finding the right pain medicine. You would already know, because you know me so well, that I hate relying on medicine (and perpetuating the industry) and loathe taking Tylenol let alone anything stronger. And I would express to you my joy that most days I can get through with Motrin, and my optimism about the night soon-to-come that I can sleep in comfort. I’d probably be disappointed in myself that the conversation turned again towards my inconvenient situation, so I’d ask you if you’ve tried any new recipes lately.

You would be thrilled to tell me about a new method you used to cook a recent meal, because you know how enthusiastic I get about food. I’d ask you to tell me every detail. We’d get lost in conversation for a few minutes, and it would be so nice to be distracted from my pain, not to mention to get away from the political discussions that are saturating all media. Next I’d ask you about your family. You would let me know what they have been up to and how they are all doing. I’d have to tell you how guilty I feel that my family has dedicated their entire summer to helping me… And I would realize that no matter how hard I tried my conversation always came back to my injury. I confess I am not good company, but I appreciate that you visit with me anyway. <3