A high and bright sun rising up over the rooftops and and not fading into dusk until just around 7pm.

Gathering at the table for serious conversations about feminism and food.

Frankly, if you’re not making a wholehearted attempt at reducing your meat consumption these days, I don’t know what you’re doing.

It's no surprise that newly legalized weed has been co-opted for a wholesale brand makeover.

I mean, what else?

You wanna pizza me?

As the magic of flour, water, and the microflora of my neighborhood revealed itself to me, I was riveted. I studied like a monk, devoting hours to poring over the gospels of Chad and Jeffrey (Robertson and Hamelman, respectively).

While I've certainly eaten many a sad lunch al desko, and occasionally been a woman laughing alone with salad, nothing disappoints me more than a wasted meal, and I believe that our daily lunches deserve more attention.

I know it’s global warming, but that sunshine sure feels good right now.

For as much as I relish the quiet time to focus and the chance to avoid being tempted into eating cheeseburgers, the monotony of the aloneness is what wears me down and draws me too deeply inward. So during these times, I tend to invent little projects for myself, assignments with checklists to tackle and milestones to meet.

I don't blame you for throwing some shade in my direction when I tell you that I (gasp) ordered a recipe delivery box this week. Yeah, you heard me. I'm talking micro-portions of spices that I already obviously own. I'm talking plastic containers inside bags inside boxes. I'm talking two pre-measured tablespoons of Dijon mustard.

A new wave of super cool, super smart, and super talented women are in formation in kitchens everywhere, rocking their Polka Pants, and I am completely, shamelessly in their thrall.

Take a deep breath and consider the tiny indulgence of spreading a spoonful of that sunshine on your morning toast. You deserve it.