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Close-up of Mamacita's Jim holding a pack of his cigarettes. (2007)
Turns out that writing for the blog is as tough as writing the book. It's real easy to come up with stuff to write about. Not so easy to make the time to write it out in complete sentences with punctuation and stuff.
Mother-in-law (Shirley, i.e., Mamacita) was here for a week and a day. Left yesterday. Good times.
Got her beau, Jim, to pose for some photos. One you see today (up and to the left, in case that clickable thumbnail is in your blind spot or something). After sharing that Vonnegut piece with you, I fell out of my chair when Jim pulled out a pack of Pall Malls.
Got at least two earth-shatteringly brilliant photos of the Jimmer. No, today's is not one of them.
ETA re: Alex... about four days or so. Say a little prayer for me.
So I'm a coffee drinker now. Discovered tomatoes last year, coffee this. Surely, a sign of the apocalypse.
Now I'm no real coffee drinker like my dad, who's like Henry Ford in that he'll take his coffee any way it comes as long it's black. But I'm at The Coffee Pub today, where I've long since become a regular (I love me some cordatito — two shots of espresso topped with steamed evaporated milk (figure that one out, Science Nerds)). Zack, the barista, is explaining to me what a frappe is. After I get the gist that it's basically an icey milkshake (as opposed to an ice creamy milkshake), he casually mentions knowingly under his breath that it's not something I'd be in to.
The implication, of course, being that since he knows my tastes run to the strong and not so sweet (I'm always getting those cortaditos with just one tablespoon of sugar instead of the usual two) that he just knows I wouldn't dig the frappe.
Ergo, I'm a coffee drinker now.
Oh, and I got a Holga.
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