Away, but back now
Dearest Darlingiest Readers:
Forgive me. I don't feel much like writing when it rains. Or when I am sad. Or making cake. But I am here. I am back, hollering epiphets into the silent void of the internet, wondering how you are and how you spend your days. Wondering why you don't comment.
I took Steven over to Berkeley for various errands on Friday and we ended up at the Mecca of food in the East Bay: The Cheeseboard Co-operative Pizza. Serving up only one type of pizza a day, on Friday it was an utterly divine three cheese pizza with garlic and peppers and onions and it was easily the best pizza I have ever eaten, tangy and crispy and hot and so incredibly head-bangingly good, good, good. After negotiations that allowed us to sit on two of the seven patio tables that had been dragged inside out of the rain, the lady at the upright piano in the corner let out with some improvised ragtime accompanied perfectly by the cellist with long grey dreds.
More later, crumpets. I gotta go cook dinner.
Forgive me. I don't feel much like writing when it rains. Or when I am sad. Or making cake. But I am here. I am back, hollering epiphets into the silent void of the internet, wondering how you are and how you spend your days. Wondering why you don't comment.
I took Steven over to Berkeley for various errands on Friday and we ended up at the Mecca of food in the East Bay: The Cheeseboard Co-operative Pizza. Serving up only one type of pizza a day, on Friday it was an utterly divine three cheese pizza with garlic and peppers and onions and it was easily the best pizza I have ever eaten, tangy and crispy and hot and so incredibly head-bangingly good, good, good. After negotiations that allowed us to sit on two of the seven patio tables that had been dragged inside out of the rain, the lady at the upright piano in the corner let out with some improvised ragtime accompanied perfectly by the cellist with long grey dreds.
More later, crumpets. I gotta go cook dinner.
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