Hi guys,

we got to the end of March, crazy, wild, unpredictable March…

After three beautiful months here with us, on Tuesday my mom returned to Italy.

A couple of days before she left, I noticed us both cautiously cutting back on our remaining experiences and time together.

“I have to pack,” she said to me on Sunday, when I told her my friend Cynthia had invited us to brunch at Julienne’s, in San Marino, on Monday morning.

I would give her similar answers: “Catherine is sick, I have to work, it’s raining, it’s been a rough day, I am tired..”

I was anticipating the pain that I would soon feel because of her absence, and as a result, I would detach from the present moment, creating distance, or what I call “pre-suffering.”

It made me think of when I was 6 or 7, learning how to ride a bike without training wheels; as soon as I’d gain some speed, I’d throw myself off the bike. What I did, back then, was exactly what I did as her departure approached: I hurt myself before life would, or people, or circumstances.

This time, however, I caught myself before it was too late.

I am no longer interested in anticipating pain: I am interested in becoming, in feeling, in growing, and in using all that to create, to help, and to raise my daughter the best I can.

My mom and I ended up not buying into the familiarity of avoiding discomfort. And even though it did rain, Catherine was, in fact, quite sick, I did have to work, we enjoyed life together until the very last minute, the very last meal, the very last grocery shopping.

I thought I’d cry in the car, on the freeway, heading home from LAX. But I didn’t, because for once, I had no regrets.

Bono sings:

“What you don’t have, you don’t need it now”

I had not paid attention to the lyrics of It’s A Beautiful Day until last Saturday, returning from The Aquarium of the Pacific. It’s become my mantra.

This newsletter is a little scattered, just like my busy thoughts at the moment. I am writing on Thursday, March 30th, with so much on my mind:

The Culinary Boxes have been an enormous success; I can’t believe how many of you have purchased and gifted it. I am humbled by the trust you have put in me. And a reminder, you can pre-order yours until April 15th HERE

I am getting increasingly closer to start selling and catering my pastries and cookie mixes. Email me (alice@alicecarbone.com) to enquire about ordering inaugural batches of my unique frangipane-like pastries: all is gluten free, vegan, organic, using ingredients from small, sustainable and local producers.

My health is a constant back and forth with SIBO. I am still eating meat and fish, as they are the best food for me right now. They make me feel good, they are good to my stomach and intestine, they give me energy and don’t cause any pain. And the reason I am sharing it with you, isn’t really of culinary nature: it’s because it made me think of how nothing will ever stay the same in life.

There is something interestingly comforting about the notion of something never changing: a house, a relationship, a style, a diet.

Interestingly, I say, because it is unrealistic to believe in something that will never change: we make promises, we commit, we declare, we decide, we vow. And then, everything changes, inevitably, because such is life.

As my Buddhist practice and belief have grown in the past year or so, I have happily noticed how I am less attached to the idea of “forever the same”, and when things do change, because they do, no matter how strongly we cling onto them, I no longer feel shame, or guilt. Maybe sadness, maybe confusion, maybe disappointment. But these feelings all dissipates when I quiet my thoughts (not as often as I should), and ask myself what my needs are, what my feelings are, without judgment, without anger, rather with acceptance and with the sole objective of being true to them, of being true to myself.

I don’t feel guilty for eating meat and fish; it is what I need now. I don’t know how long it will last, and nobody is really out there crossing out days on a calendar to punish me for yet another piece of cod, chicken liver, mussel or shrimp.

March has been full of ups and downs: the rain didn’t help lift up the sprits, Catherine was sick most of the time with viruses and chronic ear infections, but she was also accepted to our first school choice; family life has been turbulent, but my business is finally taking off, I got to spend precious time with my mother, and I am surrounded by people who are always ready to help, to hug, to love.

All is good. See you in April.

Love, always,

Alice

ps. don’t forget to pre-order your box or gift it to a friend. Pre-orders are only open until April 15th, after which I have to place the order with my vendors. ORDER HERE

If you are interested in inquiring about my pastries, email me at: alice@alicecarbone.com