Changing things around the apartment is a tricky business for me. Leaving things as they were when Ken was alive offers some kind of security--or maybe a kind of certainty that he was here--especially if it was something he'd placed himself. So, finding myself sitting in the middle of the kitchen floor at 11 pm on Tuesday night, going through all the lower kitchen cabinets was a surprise. But it was one of the several household projects I swore to get done before I return to

I took over cooking full time after Ken's surgery in early 2010. It was quite a shift for us because this role had primarily been Ken's. He was a supremely creative man and his cooking was no exception. His improv skills played a role in everything he did--particularly cooking. He often commented that he loved when we cooked together--which ultimately served as great training for me. I learned to get comfortable experimenting--no matter what the result. It was about the journ

I have the good fortune and good genes to not be sick very often. This week I got sick. Just a cold. But a bad one for a big baby who who hasn't been sick since before Ken was rediagnosed with cancer in 2009. I wonder if maybe I have been this sick, but it was all relative and because I had so many responsibilities, it didn't matter. I had a purpose bigger than myself. I was a part of something bigger and more important. But this week I was just sick. No bigger purpose. No on