EAT. DRINK. TRAVEL. WRITE.
Autumn. The season sentimentalists and traditionalists love. And I get it. But I’d rather be stuck in summer—like we are right now in NYC. Give me warm temps and relaxed dressing any day of the week.
I understand the thrill of sweaters and cocoa; roasting instead of grilling; all the implicit coziness, you break out the candles and blankets, and turn inwards. But I don’t buy it!
This past weekend, I changed out the peanut’s summer wardrobe for fall and winter. Every time I have to do this—there were big ‘out with the old, in with the new’ phases at 3 months, 6 months, last fall at one year and this past spring for the new season—I’ve relished the feeling of purging. Getting rid of stuff that doesn’t fit. Passing the clothes on to friends and family who have younger baby girls. Moving on. Sayonara!
It had been two and a half years since I’d been back to Paris. In the meantime, I had gotten married, had a baby and sold a new book. Between my new mom and wife roles, plus keeping up with my job at the agency and cracking away on the book, there’s not been a ton of time for an indulgence like zipping off to the City of Light (and Dark Chocolate).
Well, it's been awhile, I'm rusty, but I'm going to try a little blogging again.
Do people still read blogs? Admittedly, I don't. I miss them. I miss my morning routine of catching up on my favorite voices—whether they were writing about food and restaurants, home design, travel, New York City, Paris—while having some coffee and breakfast.
I think this is it, friends. I feel so bad, so often, for not posting enough. So bad that when I do post, all I manage to ramble on about is how busy I am and how bad I feel, and that, you don’t need me to tell you, is a giant bore.
When I started this blog six and a half years ago (!), it was a new medium. I was new to Paris. I was looking for an efficient way to stay in touch with family and friends while living thousands of miles away in the City of Light (and Dark Chocolate). The funny thing about blogs, of course, is that they’re public. Soon enough, strangers were reading my posts. Then commenting. Then entering my world and becoming my friends.
