tiny oven of love

i feel a little haley joel osmentish these days

as life continues to unravel in a pay it forward kinda way.

best friends:

know your shoe size and buy you awesome stuff at the vide grenier.

give you charcoal pills because they know your belly is funny.

call you by your nickname.

yesterday i spent a little time figuring out how to keep this going.

i made two black bean lasagnas

(whoa garfield)

and three loaves of banana bread

for some friends in need of love.

i endured a small kitchen fire during baking. while chanting

"scary, scary, scary,"

i found my plant mister and put the fire out.

just thought it might be interesting to show what qualifies as a

"kitchen" in paris

(it's basically a closet with a sink in it).