What is it about home that is so comforting? As much as my city's changed in the five years since I've moved (and as much as I've resented and mocked that change), there's something about the gray skies and 65-degree weather that is comforting. Dependable. Like still being able to wake up as late as I want (that mattress is killer. I swear. It has a pillowy death grip on me for 10 hours. Every night.) and settle back into my standard spot at the kitchen island and have my mom cook me breakfast. Just like I'm fifteen again (but without the whole "I hate being a teenager" thing.)
This morning: whole wheat French toast with cottage cheese, half a sliced peach, and a little cinnamon and maple syrup.
My post-lunch dessert: Jasmine green tea with black sesame dumplings from last night's dinner at Din Tai Fung. And guess who's going to be trying the recipe as soon as I get home and get my hands on black sesame seeds and glutinous rice flour? THIS GIRL.
...And then a trip to the Farmer's Market for a fresh pretzel. Completely unnecessary, but soooo carb-y. So salty. So good. And then on the way out, we saw this truck. And I did the whole "oh I've heard that place is good! I've read about it! Oh but it's 5:15pm, so ice cream is probably not a good idea... and I don't think I have any money." But I scrounged together $2.50 in change, and I got the most delicious honey lavender 100% cream ice cream that I've ever eaten. In a cone. That's right. The six-year-old girl behind me ended up ordering the same thing, which only made me more sure that that was exactly the right decision. Carpe diem, baby.
No workout today-- yesterday's 18ish hilly miles did a number on my quads, and a run is out of the question. Do ice baths actually help? This is the sorest I've ever been...
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