Bob and I got our tickets to Paris today. I am so ready for the apple pastry and croisssant aux amandes at my favorite patisserie on the Rue de Rivoli. That croissant is one of my favorite things. The almond filling infuses the pastry like a custard. And the apple pastry is impossible to describe because it is unlike anything else. It just is, apples and flour and butter transformed into oral pleasure. I need to escape into sensation. And raw-milk cheeses.
Bob’s mom leaves on Saturday morning. I look forward to having my chilly house back. Tonight at dinner sweat dripped off my nose, my shirt was soaked–even my knuckels were sweating. I can deal with an 80 degree house only if there’s a beach outside.