I think the trust I'm trying to build back up with myself is also translating to some moments in the kitchen. Usually out of necessity to adapt, like in the instance of this sort of chicken picatta. Instead of panicking I simply remembered what chicken piccata is. I mean, I think I did. This is at least close. And, honestly, if it's not chicken piccata, it's still delicious.
Is it great to lip grab a bass and snap a picture? It is great to toss a few in the basket, hoping maybe this time we'll catch enough for a fish dinner? It is thrilling when your son catches a fish for the first time, only to have a larger fish jump out of the water to try to grab the fish he's pulling through the surface? Yes. But when I think of fishing I don't think of a taut line. I don't think of a wild reel. I don't think of the dance it requires to succeed.
My husband's birthday was this past week. It was his second pandemic birthday. One was hard enough for my Aries, but we made it through. Hopefully this is the last he has to spend isolation from the rest of the world. He loves the world. And being in it. And I can't wait to go back into it with him.