Recently, a lot of my married friends are confiding in me that they once thought they’d never find another person who could love them for what they are and now look at them and their happy marriages. I believe it is a veiled way of saying that they hope I find somebody one day and may also be a vague way of referring to their concern that I may secretly be a mutant.
While this is very sweet of them, it can be incredibly frustrating; I’d like them to just out and say it so that it can be discussed. Dancing around the subject is no way of dealing with it--generally speaking, I don’t believe dancing is a good idea, anyway. Am very clumsy.
Not too clumsy with baking, though--today, I made a bajillion-layer cake with whipped cream and strawberries and fed to a sleep-over full of young women. If I can find a reasonable picture of it I will post it, because it was glorious.
It is just another one of those times where I have to look beyond my friends’ actions to the kindness that provoked them, and beyond the classes I dislike to the certificate on my resume’ . . . meanwhile, I will allow cooking to distract me. Tomorrow I am making a quiche.