Gluten-Free Peach Muffins with Almond Flour

Gluten-free peach muffins baked with almond flour.

Juicy Peach Muffins

Today is Labor Day. And here I am working. Editing photographs of peach muffins and writing up a new gluten-free recipe. No rest for the wicked. Or the self-employed. We bloggers toil at our living daily, working through holidays and oftentimes, dinner. We tend and tweak and pretty much live a nerdy geek life. The opposite of glamorous.

Or maybe it's just me.

There are plenty of extroverted bloggers who travel and attend blogging conferences and hob nob. They dine together and smile brilliantly in group pictures, tweeting breathlessly their mutual squee. And I envy them. Sometimes. Just a little.

But alas, the simple truth is, it is not meant to be. I am destined, you see, to the role of wallflower and geek girl. Because the mere, fleeting snippet of a thought about flying somewhere alone, which, you know, entails the whole going through various x-ray machines and raising your arms for people wielding wands, not to mention, taking one's shoes off and rushing to put them back on so that the person (make that seventeen persons) behind you doesn't get impatient while you fumble with your buckles and your unzipped purse and boarding pass and explain to the squinting security guy that the mystery wad of metal in your bag's side pocket is only dimes and quarters you collect for Santa Monica parking meters as he picks out all thirty-seven coins just to make sure and for good measure keeps your nail clippers (in all the excitement, you didn't confess you were also carrying nail clippers). Thank goddess you packed the vibrator in your checked luggage.

And then there's the whole belting yourself into a hulking metal beast with wings that weighs goddess knows how many megatons, and snugging your pelvis to a polyester burnt orange float-able seat cushion between a shiny headed businessman who obviously ate raw onions for lunch and college professor reading the New York Times who you know secretly wants to discuss Obama's Afghanistan policy. Where is Dr. Jack Shephard when you need him?

Such visions send spikes of fear and loathing down my duodenal canal.

So I imagine muffins.

I fondle peaches at the market admiring their curve and fuzz. I peel them gently and coax out the stone pit. I slice them into jewels that will fit on the tongue and give up a burst of sweet tart juice. I stir almond meal into powder soft flours and squeeze lime juice and sprinkle cinnamon.

I bake.

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