6:43 a.m. - 2007-09-25
Tubers
Ooops! I meant to write last night but I tripped over some Edradour!

We did it! Biba and I made the sweet potatoes into chips. Biba loooves cooking as she gets to wear her apron. She loves the costumes and props, she does. Genetic, non? Both of the girls are little hams. At any rate, Biba held the bag of oil and squished the potato sticks about in it, and then she was going to grind the sea salt onto them but she couldn't work it, so she counted the grinds that I ground. They turned out to be delicious, and I was so excited about actually growing these little jobbers. All from one wasted, withered potato that I felt bad about wasting.

That was a lot to say about tubers, wasn't it?

Well, longtime readers will know that I am/have not always been this productive. But enfinblue has kindly fed my ego in the last comments. No, I have been a sadly lazy gadabout, parties all the time and no work whatsoever. I don't really remember why I have decided to be more hands-on in the actual running of my life, but I am told that it is natural, and not to fear!

The end.

Pee Ess, Steph, sorry that I haven't come up with any new insights. Just that I have total faith in you and that I am fairly certain that we never know the love-of-our-life right away when they finally show up. But they do, so they stick by us no matter what until we finally see it. Of course, on the other hand, if they actually really are NOT, then we send them packing, but not too soon, as we do want to be sure about all this. And we steal their stuff. Hork their shizz, as it were!

Cavalry - Apache