break-up pancakes.

breakup pancake

The lines between real life and blog-life are hard, and I’ve been ignoring this space this week in part because I just don’t know how to write this post. You all know the boy through this space — his hands are in the food photos of the last 8 months, our adventures are pictured here, I’ve grown comfortable writing posts full of “we’s” and “usses,” and now…

Now I will miss those traces of him here. No anger, just sadness to work through. Sometimes the fit just isn’t quite right, and no amount of wishing or wanting on either side can fix that. I’ve never cared this much for someone in this way, and thus, I hurt more than I thought possible.  We’ve had a week of tears, quiet walks in the woods, long talks, and, moments ago, a physical goodbye dictated by a research project. I thought it would be horrible for him to be away so long. Now, it seems a good thing, as time and space are probably what we both need in order to heal and transition to friendship.

I’ve never done this part before — the hurting that comes after something so meaningful — and I’m at a loss. Also, I never make pancakes. I like savory breakfast food. But today, I had half a cup of buttermilk in the fridge and saw a link to a recipe over at smitten kitchen that seemed just the thing.

castironpancake

breakuppancake2

These are the best pancakes I’ve ever made, and I’m not going to lie: I think they helped a little bit.

Last night I made some granola for the week:

granola

And last week, in the immediate aftermath, the most beautiful bread came out of my oven. See?

pretty bread

The boy and I have each received some TERRIBLE break up advice that we are choosing to ignore as we work through this, but I got something really good from a dear friend yesterday on a long walk in the rain: do something for someone else.

I’ve had a really hard time knitting or spinning this week — too meditative for the way I feel — but this bit of advice has helped me to pick up the needles today. I kitchenered the first sock of the pair of thuja I am working on for my uncle. I’m heading home for a few days next week, and I would really love to give these to him. I worked a few inches of the cuff of the second sock today, and the squish of this cascade 220 superwash felt really good in my hands. Here’s a picture of my progress — socks in the foreground, dear snuggling companion in the back.

bohandthuja

Thanks for being here, dear readers. I know this is a lot to lay on you, but it feels good for me to write it down here. I imagine there will be a narrative of recovery, of hopefulness, and of willingness to do this all over again buried somewhere in the subtext of this summer’s knitting and spinning progress. I’m lucky to have good people in my world to take care of me right now, and I know it will get better. It has to, right?

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