Not just any cat.

Leonardo DiCATrio

Joe, our landscaper, stopped me while I was heading up the blackberry path for lunch, and offered us a cat.  We needed a new rat catcher for the barn, so I encouraged him to run it by my husband.

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Growing the perfect bite…

We’re planting trees over here at Apricot Lane Farms! For reals… 2,010 little deciduous (meaning – goes dormant in the winter) arrived last week.  The project is a 20-acre block that we nicknamed “The Fruit Basket”, before we learned that there is some sort of sexual connotation to that term.  Doh… but, too late.  It had stuck.  The citrus trees aren’t arriving until end of March, but here’s the list of our future ingredients.

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Change isn’t easy.

Prior to culinary school, when I used to spend my days driving the lush, tree-lined streets of beautiful northern Baltimore County towards the windowless production offices that in no way reflected our beloved Random 1, a water-cooler conversation with a work friend led to the realization that I can handle big changes in life, as long as the small things stay the same.  For example, I’m equipped to handle the fear of not knowing what freelance job will fill the empty space on my calendar, as long as my chap-stick is on my nightstand when I reach for it in the morning.

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You just work and work and work.

I am so dag-gone busy.

Seriously. I mean, when I was 16, and I had to stay after school to work on the yearbook and then go to school again the very next morning, I thought I was swamped. And I guess I was. But, I certainly didn’t wash my own clothes, make my own lunch, pay my bills, deal with credit card fraud (yes, john’s identity got stolen this week), wash my car so the bird poop doesn’t eat the paint, read the instructions for the file cabinet that needs put together, water the tomato plants and figure out why the tomato plants are producing tomatoes that taste like water: all while still getting up the next day to go to “school.” And I don’t even have kids. God bless all the parents in the world.

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