This is the picture that made me realize the truth of it:
Because when I buttered both sides of the bread and cut out the middle and cracked that farm egg into the middle, I knew I'd pulled together a moment. I snapped the shot. This is it: camping for us. Outside. Eating. Pretty Egg. Fire. Perfectly seasoned cast iron pan. And I knew immediately that I'd put it up here for you to see. A little picture of why I love love love to go camping with my fam.
Then I flipped the thing and it busted into a million ugly egg bits. Super unattractive egg bits flecked with weird cast iron burned-ish sorts of spots. A dark, unscrambled scramble.
And I didn't run for my camera.
And somewhere in the middle of not taking the picture and serving the destroyed Egg in a Basket to my Man Spouse I realized the truth: I don't always tell the whole truth on this blog. Don't worry, I didn't cry or anything, but I was struck by how much of that Love of All That's Just Right creeps into my life and then proves itself here.
So I'm going to start posting my failures. That makes it sound like I'm going to say a bunch of really uncomfortable stuff about what a B I am to my kids and my Man Spouse, but I'm really just talking about taking scintillating photos of the backwards hem I just ripped out of a polyester nightie I'm trying to pull off out of a pretty small piece of slinky polyester.
And now that I typed that I realize that this might not sound like inviting fodder to you. But I think it will be. Watch for reports of the imperfect, because this is where my life is leading me--down a road of imperfection that I want to celebrate and not miss.
