Naked, Drunk and Writing—good title for a book. Too bad, it’s already taken.
I wouldn’t talk about myself so much, but I know more about me than anybody.
This morning I had garlic for breakfast. Not a normal fare, but I had this wonderful sour-dough whole wheat bread from Metropol’s here in Eugene Oregon, and a couple of nights ago I roasted a few garlic bulbs—still had some let-over in the frig. So I toasted the bread, spread copious amounts of butter, ate cold garlic cloves with it, and Yum. (Hot coffee too.)
But that is not the strangest breakfast I’ve heard of. June called me one morning and told me she had a beet for breakfast. She baked a whole beet, buttered it and that was her meal. But that’s not the end of the story…Her friend from Sedona Arizona called that same morning and told her she had a beet for breakfast.
Now, what are the chances of that?!
About the same as me having a best-seller.
My question for the week:
Why is it when you fill the coffee pot with water to wash away the grounds (I use a French press), throw them in the sink, that their splatter pattern cannot be repeated with clean water from the same container?
Wisdom from a 5 year old:
“It’s dark behind a tombstone. That’s the reason Zombies are bored.”
Remedy: “Install electrical socket so they can use a computer.”
From a medical doctor regarding a non-invasive medical instrument:
“FDA approval takes 4 to 7 years, millions of dollars.”
Ever wonder why medicine advances at a snail’s pace?
More from parenting