Peppery White Wine Pasta | @thefauxmartha

It’s strange how relationships go. When you first start dating, it works because it’s easy and spontaneous. And if it’s anything but, you end things real fast. Eight years into marriage—three of those years with a tiny human—it works because we work at it and because we add a weekly event to the calendar. “Hang out.” And in the event notes: “No iPhones allowed.” We’re officially old not young. Read more

Wine Sautéed Apples over Cake | @thefauxmartha

I have one of those market totes you’d see on the streets of Paris. It’s knit from water reeds that look like a soft wicker. The top edge is trimmed with a line of leather. It’s my co-op and farmers market bag. Walking home from the store yesterday with my tiny person in tow and a baguette and green onions poking out from the top of our tote, I realize I’m in one of those “What people think I do” collages. You know the kind that ran around the internet last year with six square images set on a black background? At first thought, I’m certain I’d appear in one of the perfectly styled initial images. Woman with well-behaved child walking home hand-in-hand from the market with a beautiful bag of produce. But as I start to break out into a run, I realize I’m not her. I chase my tiny human down praying the baguette is still intact. At least there’s a cool tote on my shoulder, even if it’s barely hanging on. There’s a picture of that in the collage too.   Read more

 
 
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