My mother has a beautiful house in upstate NY and I love going up there for some air and a break from the city. I surprisingly have alot of friends up there and have made some new ones as well. A few weeks ago I even met a great guy at a party.  I was wearing a turtleneck and clogs! HA, go figure. He is English, a gentleman, a very fit tri-athelete and supposedly has healing hands.  Nice guy.

This past weekend, a friend of mine had a big open house party at her brilliant shop in High Falls NY called Nectar. She asked if I could possibly help out and work which I would have loved to have done.  When I got there she clearly didn’t need me but I chose to stay all day as I was a bit stranded and had no car.  There were lots of fun people, lots of great food, wine, chocolate, cheese and of course the surroundings were incredible – her shop is filled with amazing things from all parts of the world.  I nibbled, munched and grazed all day.  Then as life works – I was going to go home and the Englishman showed up with his kid.   I suppose he really does not have very good manners because there was no “its so nice to see you, lets have dinner this week… “  something!!!!!!!” But that was not said.  I sensed his sadness and his bitterness towards his own situation, and I need not that in my life. Besides, I’m getting married in the spring anyway. I think my next post needs to be an exploration if I should tell men that I meet that I am getting married in the spring.  Back to our story when the protagonist was going to launch into a rant about that she really didn’t even like the Englishman she is  just sad, lonely and in desire of some male hands on her body!

I joined my sweet friend and awsomly fabulous man for dinner afterwards. We met up with a couple friend of theirs. All happy, all with kids, all younger than me. I wont even bore you with how I felt – but I took the emptiness of love and filled it with wine, french fries, steamed greens and then lots of chocolate.  Its interesting,  Flling a spiritual void with food is pretty darn unfufilling as it really just makes you sick. I mean, If your gut instinct is to run, hit a wall, bash a window in with a baseball bat – why move to food? Food is love and love is food – or so we are taught or shown as children. But its not. Food is nurishment. Food is also the medium for which I choose to express my creativity. It is also the medium for which I choose to express love and for which I choose to abuse mindlessly. Would I do this if my medium was paint or clay?  Thats a thought to explore on for a while.