My next door neighbors, who live in their backyard, are grilling, as they do at every meal, and the smoke has filled my house with a romantic blue haze, so I’m coughing and salivating in this Von Sternberg-esque environment while I wait for my wine-sicles to freeze, which I plan to slurp with my Salade Nicoise. (I don’t know how to do that little squiggly thing under the “c.”) I can only stand one more day of this heat. I shaved off my beard yesterday in a mad attempt to increase surface ventilation. I can’t believe how much face I have now. I’m but a fat shadow of my former self. Surprisingly, no one has noticed, except for Robert who commented on how much younger I looked. “Did you get a tan?” he asked? “No, I shaved my beard off.” The air on my face is quite refreshing, I must say, like a big mint, and I can see my cleft chin, and a new chin that I never noticed!
Okay, it looks like wine slush, I’m hungry!
Tales of Post-Twinkie Ennui