The holidays have been good to me except for the horendous cold--possibly life threatening, which I have suffered about a month. The main reason I feel motivated to write is that i cant even hear because of the snot in my sinuses and because nobody i know listens to sh*t that I say about any thing. Why else does anbody write. about a month ago Dervala celebrated her yeear of blogging. she was in vietnam with a broken arm and a bruised breast (from a scooter accident and a masher respectively.)
I thought all the cooking was going to be full of love and nurturing but Peter made a sweet pear tort, Denny cooked a duck deep i its own grease and we did a ham. The duck was bothched but I salvaged some for a bean soup that i didnt do more than taste. cooked it twice too, just for the sake of cooking. It would be nice if people had a table to sit around and serve each other. but who cares we're Americans-- all in it for our selves---love + guilt make a sh*tty dinner.