An Angry Woman Falls in Love with A Man Who Makes Omelets
I like this photo of Peter because although you can’t see his sparkling blue eyes, he looks kind of meditative. This was on the plane home from Taos.
I met Peter in March of 1976. Meeting him marked the end of a long period of grief, confusion, bad luck. With one (young) marriage behind me I wasn’t so much depressed as I was furiously angry at life and I was making plans to move to Israel and work on a kibbutz.
I met him at a brunch and he was making omelets for everybody. That was my first sight of him and he was so happy and merry, all his vegetables minced and organized; I was through with men but I thought I could be his friend. So I came up to him and the first words I said to him were: “Can I help you?” This has been pointed out to me multitudes of times over the last 43 years. His answer was “You could cut up the mushrooms.” Seeing that his cooking skills were advanced and meticulous, I very carefully sliced the mushrooms.
By the end of this brunch I was saying to myself: I can’t lose this guy. I don’t want another failed romance but he seems as if he’d be such a great friend.
I was right.
lgmwriting 