It was brought to my attention recently that members of my covert caramel collective look forward to my posts, whether on Instagram or my blog. A messenger overheard someone at a cafe commending my frankness and sinister humour. I realised once again that I had neglected this casual life archive. Before I left for my trip to Europe this past August, I had promised several to muster out some posts. Believe me, I tried to make an effort, but nothing made it past my moleskine…
Last spring, my friend James admitted that he had been following my progress as the candid confectioner and was admittedly “impressed.” I was caught off guard. James of the Cudmore’s, ever elusive, lives according to his own rules and unique expression. I had the pleasure of meeting him through my former partner. Our first meeting was outside the UBC Law building; James was standing alone, contemplating over god-knows-what with a cigarette in one hand, wearing shredded jeans, face adorned with aviators and a giant untamed beard. I liked him immediately and we bonded over our love for my then-partner’s ghetto shitmobile of a Dodge Caravan. We still miss that thing, spiderwebs, rust and all
I asked how he knew about my business.
“Well, Steph. You have this thing called a blog. You update it once in a blue moon. And I read it.”
I admitted that I had once again abandoned my blog despite intending to update it regularly.
“Yeah. Well! You’re failing.”
Here’s to you, Cudmore. Shall I uncover the meditations and tribulations of my last eight months before the dust settles?