Okay, I understand that cursing is probably not the most graceful way to jump back into a blog but seriously people, holy shit. Today when I tentatively typed in my url to check on my little blog here there was a part of me that believed it had been, oh, 3 or 4 months since I last posted (obviously, this part of me lives in a world where unicorns drop us off on mountains of sundaes, which we ski down landing in lakes of calorie-free fudge sauce; a magical place where leggings actually are pants). Imagine my surprise when I realized it has been almost TWO YEARS since I last wrote here. See? I think that deserves a serious “holy shit.”

The funny thing is that with all I’ve been doing (and it’s been a doozy of a two years – moving numerous times, new jobs, new friends and a couple of big surprises I’ll share later this week) this little blog has haunted me wherever I go. And today it hit me that being scared of restarting and looking foolish is not a reasonable excuse for stopping something I genuinely enjoy. Well, that and my husband told me it was time to put up or shut up and I think we can all imagine the terror I felt at the prospect of not talking.

So, I’m back and rather than making any large pronouncements (which I realize I’m quite prone to) I’m going to say, “It’s lovely to see you all again and I look forward to many adventures ahead.”

Never fear, though, I’m still doing all sorts of fun things – like resting my fevered face on our bathroom’s cool tiles and slamming glasses of oj followed by chasers of Theraflu. Really, there’s no end to the good times around here.

This little post has sapped all of the energy I’ve stored up over the past two days so I need to go take a 4-hour nap in order to recover. I’ll talk to you all on the other side of this nonsense.

Or pork cracklin. Well, we might have pork cracklin. I don’t actually know if Winter Park has pork cracklin because before Saturday morning, I’d never tasted pork cracklin. Now, though, I totally understand why there is an entire Network dedicated to Food and I firmly believe pork cracklin should have its own show. I can’t say pork cracklin enough. It’s like I’m trying to resurrect those few, brief moments I had with pork craklin before it was gone. Pork cracklin, pork cracklin, pork cracklin. It’s not working.

Here’s LB’s sandwich. Notice his hand. If you had a sandwich with pork cracklin on it, you would feel possessive as well.

Here are our potatoes. They were also ridiculously good. Although they were not pork cracklin.

Here’s the truck where we bought our pork cracklin. Although it was a lot more full when we bought our pork cracklin. This is several hours later when I went back to visit.

Pork cracklin.

Our entire weekend wasn’t completely consumed by pork cracklin (officially). We also went to Mount Davidson and looked at some of the most amazing views I’ve seen of the city, we tooled around the Mission, we visited the ocean that I completely forgot we lived by (LB: That makes sense that you’d forget the entire Pacific Ocean.) and took a bunch of pictures, which I’d planned on posting here until I found this website and realized my photos of San Francisco are like overcooked bacon to Caliber’s pork cracklin.