It’s thirty two. Warm enough for sunbathing. As good as she looked, I was happy when she came to sit by me.
Fifth weekly ritual pizza came out well. Our guest said it was good. Maybe that’s all it is, but I always hope people know that gushing a bit is free and easy. Honesty is fine but well timed compliments are finer still.
I had to skip a few episodes of Mind of a Chef. I passed on the first when Chef Bloomfield, standing in a curing room with fifty hanging pigs said “it’s like I’ve died and gone to heaven.” Someone has died, anyway. The second was a celebration of using all the bits of a dead critter. Bully for you, Chef. I picked up again where she was opening Tosca Cafe in San Francisco. That was nice, so I’ll keep with it.
I’m glad Frida has us out here sitting in the sun. Birds chirping and water dripping are two sounds I’ve gone too long without.
I hope you get outside today too.