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desperancePart one of this morning: I meant to visit the bank, to deposit my luxurious fee for the Aspidochelone in The Touch of the Sea (thank you, Steve!), and then veggify at the farmers' market, but alas for part one, chapter two: there is no farmers' market today, on account of the Sunnyvale Art & Wine Festival. Which is apparently a tradition of these parts. I scoured the stalls quickly, up one street and down the next: half kitsch, half Californian woo-woo. But there may yet be a third half, and the wines should be worth drinking. We hope to go back later in the day.
In the meantime, I may be veg-free but not for long: a friend and I are going to hit up some local specialist grocery stores, in the ongoing campaign to make Chaz aware of what's available.
In other news, I am not a native-born griller, apparently. There are skills to this art that I do not have. Yet. Last night's dinner was ... a bit of a mess, frankly. Like pizza night a couple of weeks back. I need more books, and more practise. Lots more practise. Oh waily wailie.
[It's just annoying that the bad ones always happen when other people come. Sigh. My reputation is deflating like a leaky balloon. As it ought, of course, being compounded of nothing but hot air and frivol.]
In the meantime, I may be veg-free but not for long: a friend and I are going to hit up some local specialist grocery stores, in the ongoing campaign to make Chaz aware of what's available.
In other news, I am not a native-born griller, apparently. There are skills to this art that I do not have. Yet. Last night's dinner was ... a bit of a mess, frankly. Like pizza night a couple of weeks back. I need more books, and more practise. Lots more practise. Oh waily wailie.
[It's just annoying that the bad ones always happen when other people come. Sigh. My reputation is deflating like a leaky balloon. As it ought, of course, being compounded of nothing but hot air and frivol.]