Breakfast for Two?

This may be a hot take but you shouldn’t make bacon naked, the oil simply just splatters too much. Did you see those guys in the city with amazingly toned arms? I bet they got their deltoids and biceps to look like that purely by whipping whipped cream by hand. This cooking thing is “no joke.” The woman in the 1930s who wrote this cookbook, first of all she was ripped, second how the hell did she do the dishes after being this sore?

The fall makes me nostalgic to be in love again. Am I crazy? All summer long I loved being single. But now I am here on the Amtrak with this empty seat next to me thinking. He could be here! We could be watching Just Go with It, and play footsies while he keeps my shoulders warm. Tomorrow we could fly to Italy or go apple picking! I don’t want to “watch” the haunted mansion or tower of terror alone this halloween…it’s too scary. Big sweaters, leaves falling, warm pumpkin bread, and maybe I'm just a real sucker for cuffing season.

Fat Weiner dogs are my favorite. First they remind me of hot dogs. Second, I love how they waddle back and forth with these miniature legs while their fat bellies almost hit the sidewalk. There is one, Stella, who lives on my street. I see her all the time and I envy her carelessness as she conjointly struts and waddles in the body she has. While I sit at night with a checklist of why I need to defer the risk to love: I want to be a size 4 first, hold a higher title at work, I want to be funnier, more free spirited, more feminine. I want to be more physically desirable first, dare I say give him more to be proud of. Heartbreaking isn’t it, that this fat weiner dog understands more than I do, how to love the body she’s in.

I love the sound of crickets after dark. Their acoustics make me feel less alone when I lay down at night. Almost as if they are saying, let us sing to you as you fall asleep like your father used to. This way you know you’re not alone, even when it feels lonely in your home with the doors all shut. Being open isn’t as easy as it looks. 

I long for love most on travel days in the airport. This could be it. What could be a better story for us than meeting in the airport…like most writers, I am always in it for the story. Call me a hopeless romantic but maybe I will meet him on the escalator, in line for coffee, or he will sit next to me on my flight. But then I remember I am a tragic overpacker, so naturally I have to wear all my largest pieces on the plane. So the first time he meets me I might be wearing knee high boots under sweatpants and a leather jacket. There I will stand holding some beaded Staud bag I didn’t want to get crushed in my bag alongside 3 hardcover books that I am halfway through and determined to finish on the flight. Ambitious isn’t it? But hey, some guys are into that.

Eventually, one thing will lead to another and in a few months I'll be in the kitchen asking him how much bacon he wants for breakfast.

Love Always,

Casey