My first instinct says we should hold this, as Edible Brooklyn just ran their backyard chicken story. Thoughts?
It’s 10:30 on a Friday night and that is the e-mail I just sent to my publisher. For the past few weeks, my schedule has been consistent: work in Manhattan until 8 or 9, come home, eat tortas or burritos from one of my favorite Mexican joints (worried I’m becoming a one-track eater), drink a Modelo, talk to SK on the phone, write, edit.
For the first time ever, this is enough. Yes I’m growing older and less socially exuberant, but I’ve also found work I enjoy doing. I cannot overstate how good that is for the soul.