hardly un-perfect

Do you know what was perfect about today? How imperfect it was. Or rather, how content i was despite its imperfections: i was quite ok with having to rush through breakfast--hardly perfect (slightly burnt) ricotta hotcakes--only to find that the clouds had opened up in the two and a half minutes it took me to unlock my bike, and closed up again two and a half blocks from my destination. there wasnt alot to learn at my stage today...nono,actually, there is always alot to learn and see and practice, just this time it was more observation while peeling peppers and washing lettuce, only to leave when the real excitement of a very busy service started. i was leaving, hurriedly to a lecture. I was late, but was worth the sweaty effort and missed line action to hear Elizabeth Gilberts speech. Although her humour was someone predictable ( i see it rather as a shared train of thought), her date in Vancouver coincides ironically in so many chance-iful ways with my desperate need to travel, get over love and into it again, to seize the moment, to reconnect with myself, to eat like i am in Italy. And to re-involve myself with my relationship with writing--the topic of her lecture... The ride home, where it started raining again, but i realized i had had probably the most wonderful day in this f**in city (how i have come to refer to this place) yet; unplanned, unforseen, and certainly un-perfect. it did end however, with a nearly perfect vongole--actually... perfect, to me, and the sense that i am learning something about cooking, more about myself. And eating like an Italian.