Thursday, August 20, 2009
At some point in the past Eric and I both quit smoking, and tonight I desperately miss it. Lots of things banging around in my head all week to share, but I am one of those writers that has a difficult time actually getting to the writing.
Granted it’s been tough in New York this week, what with the heat and all. Apparently, Darla, our one-tooth wonder is struggling too – as I type this I’m watching her out of the corner of my eye. She’s positioned half-in, half-out of the liter box and cat pee is slowly pooling in the middle of the bathroom floor. I already know that I will probably forget that I witnessed this, and step in it an hour from now.
I had just prepared for myself a fancy chef’s salad, and now I have eaten it. Perhaps you would call this more of an anti-pasta plate, a mingling of marinated artichokes, nostrano salami, arugula, some Spanish cheese which I don’t recall the name of. Once, while heading east on Rt. 6 near Indian Point, Eric and I heard a radio host use the phrase “the finest meats and cheeses in all the land…” ever since we refer to cold cut dinners as such.