Well, I could stop right there.
Of course I won't.
I go back and forth. I am at once a candid and protective sort, in an uncannily odd mix. Once a person I had just met referred to me as "a log cabin on stilts." I'm fine with that. I prefer self-deprecation to boasting, and don't mind telling the story about how I peed my pants when I was 16, (because it's funny!) but I also really, really like protective boundaries and keeping them and keeping company with people who also have their own. Decorum! Decorum, people, it's not the same as shame, or secrecy, or anything nasty like that.
But sometimes my quest for balance is just stupid. There, I said it. Stupid. A while ago I started a second blog. I had this idea that I wanted to write about making things and and the making life, and that I would somehow benefit from keeping it separate from Secret Lentil. Well guess what? Secret Lentil is basically my child. I love it and even when I don't it's still hanging on my ankle dragging across the kitchen floor, screaming something about "Wrong cookies! Wrong cookies!"
I think I just wanted what the mother of every toddler wants: a few minutes alone in the bathroom. Well, people, there is no such thing. So I'll be okay with that too. The handful of posts that follow have been moved over from there to here. All eggs, one basket. Enjoy.
ps: I can barely keep bean sprouts alive for 3 days and am not even qualified to use motherhood as an analogy, but I did it anyway. I claim poetic license.
