Awake on a Sunday night, unable to tell if this is where the week begins or ends?
Life is such a meal, I have the ingredience, I have the recipe, but do I have the patience to sit down and enjoy the food I’ve prepared?
The month is past half way and I need to be ready for what is to come. My niece helped her grandma make cup cakes yesterday evening. She handed me one for dessert, it looked so yummy, pink sprinkles on chocolate frosting. I take a bite and it taste the way it looks, Elexis then warns me about the possible eggshells that fell in the batter.
Her honesty is sweet and I could still eat a crunchy cup cake she felt proud serving me. I’ve noticed that this is something we have always been doing, serving each other food. Real or plastic, she loves the concept of giving something, a meal, a piece of her imagination to be consumed delightfully. My niece is an amazing energy for me and I wouldn’t be surprised if she someday owns her own restaurant. She definitely has the experience, I mean I have no complaints about her service, and she’ll have mastered the eggshell complex by then, believe me. Storiesfrommystomach.