24 January 2022

A batch of delicious-looking, buttery, flaky cinnamon buns in a white scalloped quiche pan. They are frosted with a white icing-sugar glaze. Several of the cinnamon buns have already been removed from the pan. In the upper left of the photo, a half-eaten cinnamon bun sits on a plate; a child's hand holding the plate still suggests that the remainder of the bun will soon be eaten as well.
A batch of delicious-looking, buttery, flaky cinnamon buns in a white scalloped quiche pan. They are frosted with a white icing-sugar glaze. Several of the cinnamon buns have already been removed from the pan. In the upper left of the photo, a half-eaten cinnamon bun sits on a plate; a child’s hand holding the plate still suggests that the remainder of the bun will soon be eaten as well.

Started the day with baking, ended it with an episode of Queens of Mystery and a glass of wine. In between: intensive living-room vacuuming and dusting, moderate fretting, the making of nine kid-sized masks (three per kid, four layers apiece, which I hope will keep us virus-free until we can get our paws on some kid-sized N95s), dinner, yoga. This was supposed to have been a writing day, but things don’t always work out as planned, do they? Oh, the collection of Adrienne Rich essays I ordered arrived. When the kids were leaving to go to my mother’s, my youngest suggested that while they were all out I could “talk to Mo” (Giacomo, the cat) “about Emily Dickinson.” Which I obviously did.