Rumblings & Ramblings

I have done such a poor job of writing on this thing. I am ashamed because I have no real excuse except my own laziness to blame. I have ideas, experiences and questions in my head that I want to share or allow to develop a bit, like letting a stew simmering slowly on the stove (I love the French word for simmer “mijoter”. For a couple minutes I  could not conjure the English word in my head and could only think of the French word),  but I never get around to articulating them, and they are forever lost - or perhaps left as a line or two in one of my many notebooks I keep for cross-purposes: my little pocket lime green notebook which is my ‘carry-all’, my three floppy  brown “professional” notebooks dedicated to different projects I am currently working on, my regular black notebook in which I write inane and random thoughts and feelings, as well as draw.

I think part of the problem for me is that I am not sure what exactly it is I am trying to convey.

I tend to think of moments, which for whatever reason, touch me in some way. But I am never sure quite why. Although I am sure it is obvious to some.

For example, last evening, Steven and I went out for Vietnamese food at Pho Linh. I had banh cuong, thin rice flour rolls filled with minced pork and mushrooms, with Vietnamese sausage, and nem chua, a pickled and fermented pork roll on the side(actually I ordered two, but the first one rolled onto the floor after one unfortunate bite). Steven had pho bo tai with beef tripe. As I tucked into my banh cuon, every bite with crispy fried onion and fresh coriander leaves, I couldn’t help but feel happy to see Steven digging into his soup with his chopsticks for more pieces of tripe slices to dip in his chili sauce. I felt at ease.

Those simple details  and small interactions make me happy.