Tuesday, February 9

Identity Crisis

I am a stalker. and I'm not ashamed to admit it.

I facebook stalk, I blog stalk, and now that I've joined twitter, I'll probably twitter stalk.

On any given day, I read several different blogs... whether its my friend's family blog, the latest celebrity gossip, a good deal on shoes, or healthy living recipe, I stalk them all.

Now that its my turn in the blog world, I've been struggling with what kind of blog this should be. It seems like so many of the ones I read fit into one category or another. However, I don't have that niche I fall into. I don't have an adorable baby to proudly show off and I definitely don't have the where-with-all to document all my foods and exercise activity akin to some fo the food bloggers I follow. I like to shop, but its such a personal, theraputic experience, I don't think I could accurately translate the feeling of pure joy one gets shopping. None of them seem right for me.

So what is the identity of this blog? I'm not quite sure yet. I think it might be too early to tell. This blog is like a nice wine, it gets better over time ;) Every day this week, I am going to post a picture that represents a part of myself...a get-to-know you activity circa 5th grade, if you will.

My first picture is two of my favorite things: red wine and cooking. This recipe in particular is a favorite. It's a homemade spaghetti sauce that I learned through years of watching my dad. To this day, the smell of this sauce as it simmers on the stove on a cold, winter night warms me right down to my toes! and the red wine? Well, let's be honest here. Who doesn't love it?

(p.s. Sorry the picture is so blurry. It wasn't taken on my super cool new camera, it was taken on my super lame blackberry, but it still looks delicious, no?)


VL said...

Nothing NOTHING beats homemade spaghetti sauce. Except maybe the North End...

Preppy in Polka Dots said...

hmmm i may have to come over and enjoy some of that homemade spaghetti sauce :)

Living on the Spectrum said...

I remember your Dad's spaghetti. He absolutely perfected it, but never did share the secret with me. Guess it's an Evans thing, eh?

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