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So my sisters have done the “23 and me” genetic testing and we are virtually positive there’s nary a trace of Italian that runs through our veins. But sometimes I just feel that in another life, I would be barefoot in a kitchen in Tuscany, whipping up all kinds of Italian specialties I can’t pronounce and dramatically talking with my hands. Basically Sophia Loren meets Julia Child. Sounds glamorous and delicious, right?
Now that I’ve settled back into my nest after a very exciting two weeks on the road for my sons’s wedding and visiting the Hallmark movie set for one of my books, I’m finally able to spend some time in my kitchen. It’s restorative and grounding to be home. It recharges my batteries.