Hi. How are you? I'm fine, thanks. So...
huh?
Anyway, reading George Saunder's "In Persuasion Nation," working on essays for school applications, and taking notes.
Someone told me once that the French do not respect Americans because Americans buy croutons. I refused to believe that, when I heard it. Then, I made my own croutons.
Our reliance on industry has truly undermined our ability to perform even the simplest task, hasn't it? What do you really need to make croutons, after all? Friggin' old bread, olive oil, an oven or even a couple of moderately clean bricks and a barrel fire....... maybe some spices, if you're A FANCY PANTS?
(which I am)
I say all of this as I wipe my hands on a paper towel. Ahhhh, hypocrisy.
Lately, Les and I have been playing this game where we kill a bug and then leave it wherever it died for the other to find.
"I think I'll have some of this sake! Ohhhhh, it was used to kill a Cockroach."
"Coool, I didn't know we had cheez-its! Ohhhh, dead ants."
Ah, summer in Florida. Roaches, the lightning storms, and the pollen make it totally worth checking out.
