I'm not sure how often I'll manage these illustrated journal pages in my Moleskine sketchbook (I packed journal and drawing materials last Sunday, forced myself to pull them out and use them today after they languished in my case for the week), but even once or twice is better than not at all, right? Terribly amateur sketches, obviously, but let's remember that "amateur" is not necessarily a bad word .. .
In case you can't read my writing, the script says, Paul brings me olives and red wine. He's put down his mystery paperback (Donna Leon's Death at La Fenice) to cook dinner--something from Ottolenghi's Jerusalem, a Christmas gift. I've been reading Anthony Doerr's All the Light
Scrawled sideways up the left margin, beneath today's date, are the words Letting the old year begin to slip-slide away...
In case you're foodie-curious, I had a delicious kale, pancetta, and garlic confit pizza with my Stout, while Paul had an IPA with his Buttermilk Chicken at lunch, the calories in nicely balanced by those outlaid on our long walk. Still more balance was found in the great meal Paul whipped together from his new cookbook: Fried Cauliflower withTahini and pomegranate seeds and a wonderful salad of mixed vegetables to accompany cumin-spiced chickpeas.