In my dining room, I have a chalkboard in a pretty frame. It’s the one chalkboard in the house (we have several) that the kids are not allowed to draw on; it’s just for me. Sometimes I draw pictures (a Thanksgiving turkey, a Christmas tree, the Easter bunny), but most of the time it’s the specials board for my imaginary bakery. Every so often, usually as the seasons change, I dream up a new list of goodies, draw little flowers and coffee cups and swirls, and pretend I’m actually going to bake these things and sell them in a quaint bakery/coffee shop, situated in an old mansion in some sweet-but-accessible neighborhood, where I also rent the upstairs rooms and host poetry readings and live music in the others. Also there’s a huge play room for the kids and a patio with fairy lights.
Yeah, I’m a grown-up, but I still play make-believe. Continue reading “Peach Cobbler Blondies”
The Sensitive, Bookish Type 