WHAT THE FUCKING FUCK????
I'm also reading a book about a couple who decided to quit the rat race and open a small beach bar/grill restaurant in Anguilla. I am teetering between hating the book, them, and everything about them and, uh...well. That about covers it.
No, really- god love 'em.
I'm having negative feelings about all of this because the restaurant they opened (and built with their own hands- hey! I'm giving 'em props) is like a French-cuisine sort of thing with food they have to fly in from Miami and a full wine list and beautiful china and stemware and yet, they moved to Anguilla in order to slow down their lives, live a more reasonable, laid-back, beachy lifestyle.
And I guess for obviously Type A people, they are doing that. They are only open six days a week and only for dinner at that. And she's the chef. And he's the front-of-the-house guy.
Oh wait. I just looked them up. They've since opened a second restaurant, a beach shack place that's open for lunch and early supper.
Well, at least they're not wasting their lives on Facebook.
So I thought I was really getting better but fever does have a way of returning in the early evening, which mine has. I still haven't gone out to the coop. I just can't. I think I have lost seven chickens. Seven. I can't bear going out to see which ones.
Lord, but this is a low time.
I keep thinking about how yesterday when I went to go take care of Maggie and the boys for a little while, Maggie smelled just like a strawberry pie. I mean, exactly.
That's the best thing that's happened to me in days.
See you tomorrow.
This has been a week horrible all around. I am so sorry about your chickens. I ate a costco hot dog for lunch yesterday and need to be close to the bathroom as well. After reading this I hope it was the hot dog. I had forgotten how nasty a workplace can be, I am still working but looking to make a change. GailReplyDelete
I don't have chickens to lose but have lost many, many trees, big ones, to drought.ReplyDelete
It's scary, sobering and worrisomely symbolic. As for the face in the pie, there
are now selfie toasters. Hope all of you feel better soon!
Opening a restaurant would be hell for me. Cooking AND talking to people for fun. It's like a B&B. (Have I ever mentioned I hate B&B's?. I almost always skip the breakfast part and prefer to stay in bed.)ReplyDelete
It is a sad day losing so many of your chickens.
I am so sorry about the chickens, it's just beyond sad. My response to New Yorker fiction is the same as yours. It's very rare for me to like the fiction or finish it.ReplyDelete
Gail- God. I hope it was the hotdog too. You do not want this bug. Can I tell you how proud I am of you for working this job? AND for looking to make a change? You're amazing.ReplyDelete
A- In the grand scheme of things, losing big trees is a greater loss by far. Selfie toasters? So you can eat your own face? Oh. Great. Brave fucking new world there, baby.
Birdie- I just can't believe how these people threw themselves into these giant projects. And the money they spent opening the restaurant would have supported them for years on an island if they'd lived frugally. But they seem to be incredibly happy. They love challenges.
In other words- they are like the opposite of me. And probably you, too.
(I hate having to eat breakfast with strangers. HATE IT!)
Allison- I read a story yesterday in a back issue that I really didn't care about one bit until the last line and that line made all of the rest of the story worthwhile. Sometimes that happens. But rarely.
some days are better spent in bed.ReplyDelete
This is the summer of so much death. No words really.ReplyDelete
Oh, little Maggie smelling like strawberry pie -- those are the sweetest words and balm for all of us.ReplyDelete