We are HERE. 
We're HERE and it's 13 and I'm worried. 
I'm really worried. 
I'm worried because I don't know what's coming next and if 12 taught me anything it was that predicting things is impossible impossible impossible. 

 I'm scared about the future, because it is big. 

But it's okay. 

It's okay, because I've got a lot of hopes: 

I hope you're doing OK. 
I hope you've got dreams up your sleeves and plans drawn in blue pencil, and datebooks that are full of important events, and I hope there are people you want to meet and talk to and laugh with and kiss and sleep with, and I hope there are clean socks, and nice showers. I hope the soap smells mighty fine, and that your siblings win at life. 
I hope you get the girl, love the boy, live the dream. 
I hope you learn how to pray, wear the false eyelashes, and don your party hats of newspaper and flowers.
 I hope you go out, and I hope you get drunk.
 I hope you get wasted. 
I hope you write something nice, and I hope you make the right/wrong decision. And I hope you preserve your sense of self in this mad world, where everyone 
pushes you and pulls you and pushes you and pulls you. 
I hope you sleep well. 
Read more. 
Dance more. 
I hope you stay up until 3 am, talking under twinkle lights. 
I hope you wear a pair of killer shoes, and help someone unexpected, and I hope you tell everyone how much you love them. 
Because life is too short. 
I hope you eat more breakfast tacos, and drink the right amount of coffee so that you're not anxious, just jazzed. 
I hope you don't hurt too much. 
I hope you're not lonely. 
I hope you sing a lot. 
I hope you figure it out. 
I hope you are under the right disco ball in the right room in the right bar in the right city at the right time.

I hope 13 is lucky. 
Oh Beloveds. 
I hope it's a year to remember. 



Hi Sweet Darlings,
I haven't abandoned you exactly.
I have been so busy and so tired.
Which maybe is not a good excuse but I'm using it any way.

 I've been thinking a lot about what it means to be strong. And brave. 

Because this year, the one thing I've learned is how strong being vulnerable makes you. 
When you say to someone: Here are my bones. Here are my insides. 
And some people will take you and hold you and all of your ligaments and vertebrae, and they help you love and forgive them. 
And others do not. 
These things make you strong. And brave. 

You will trip and fall and be foolish. 
And you and your bones and insides will get up again. 
And this will make you strong. And brave. 

You are strong. And brave. 
I am too. 

Be safe. Be good. Maybe next time there will be something zesty and delicious to share with you. 

But until then. 

How to Make Chicken Broth

I was so excited. I bought a rotisserie chicken. 

And I was going to use the bones to make a deep, rich broth for my favorite soup. I pulled the meat from the bones, and found the wishbone. 
I covered the bones in water, added some garlic and onion and salt, and set it all on the stove, simmering. 
And then I forgot about it. 
And then, when I remembered, it had burned. 
I don't even know. 
I also tried to bake a blueberry crisp that night, only we were out of flour. And I tried to get inventive. And I ended up with mild blueberry disaster. 

I don't even know how you burn soup that isn't even soup yet. 

The point is, Beloveds. 

Do not give up. 

Your soup-that's-not-yet-soup may burn, your blueberry crisps that you were craving may not taste the way you know they should.

So what?

I've been thinking so much about failure lately. 
Because I feel like I've been having my share of it.
These disappointments, they will not stop me. 
I will not stop. 
I will burn my soups, until one day I don't. 
I will not give up on my blueberry crisps. 
And I will fail boldly. 
Because life is too short to be afraid, and to be afraid to fail. 

If you're failing, maybe it means you're really living. 

Or maybe it means you just burned your future soup. 

How to Make Chicken Broth
via simplyrecipes.com

- leftover bones and skin from a cooked or raw chicken carcass
-optional celery, garlic, carrot

Put leftover bone and skin from a chicken carcass into a large stock pot and cover with cold water. Add vegetables. Add salt and pepper, about a teaspoon of salt, 1/4 teaspoon pepper. 
Bring to a boil and immediately reduce heat to bring the broth to barely a simmer. Simmer uncovered fat least 4 hours, occassionally skimming off the foam that comes to the surface. 
Remove bones and strain the broth. 

Blueberry Crisp
adapted from Deborah Madison's Vegetarian Cooking for Everyone

For Crisp Topping:

6 tablespoons butter, cut into 1/2 inch chunks
3/4 cup brown sugar, packed
2/3 cup flour
1/2 cup rolled oats or chopped nuts
1/4 teaspoon salt
1/2 teaspoon grated nutmeg
1 teaspoon ground cinnamon, optional

6 cups blueberries, tossed with an optional 1/4 cup of brown sugar, and maybe some lemon zest if you're feeling fancy

Preheat oven to 375 F.
Using your fingers or the paddle attachment of a mizer, work the butter with the rest of the ingredients (except blueberries) so that each piece is coated and you have a coarse crumbly mixture. Butter a 2-2 1/2-quart baking dish. Pour in blueberries. Gently cover with the topping. Bake for about 45 minutes. Or until topping is lightly browned and blueberries are luscious and bubbly looking.