I think I have a pretty good memory. I remember things I need to remember, and if I forget, well, I console myself that it must not have been that important anyway (or as my dad used to say when I was a little kid, “it must have been a lie”). I’m pretty good at straying off subject too. Just ask my husband, or kids … no, actually. Please don’t.
Anyway, can you recall what you had for breakfast, lunch and/or dinner every night for the last two weeks? That’s what I thought. No. October was a spectacularly busy month (why, why, why? Two catering jobs, college applications infinity, oh, life). Each day I’ve added another photo and another layer of guilt at not posting. (Confession: when it came time to choose what to do with the final moments of each night I chose sleep instead. of blog. That’s why I’m an unknown.)
Now I have a dozen buckets of … what? There are no notes, and my memory is shut as soundly as the door of a bank vault. I recognize about half of this photo glut. CSI: Compost? I remember making a recipe of my mom’s and, wait! I do remember that the stray arugula leaf was one I grew, and bugs ate. Yay me.
The rest of these scraps, we’ll just sort through together. Maybe you ate dinner at my house and can remind me what of I cooked? Thanks!
So, here, in no particular order (except that’s how they were taken on my camera) are my buckets of no-clue compost.