My father lives in a rural part of Bavaria, surrounded by farmland. The air is rich with the smell of cows and manure, and traffic jams are caused by tractors. Should you think I am being hyperbolic on that last point: –
Then we left Paris … – And went to Bavaria. No tunnels were harmed in the making of this post.
I will probably forget the name of the brunch place we went to in Marais. I’ve forgotten it three times already, each and every time you told it to me, until you finally emailed me with the message “Don’t lose me.” – You meant the restaurant name, of course, but somehow I read it as…
I’m almost done with Paris (at least, as far as blog goes. My personal love affair with the city is just starting). I have only one more post I really need to tackle, about the brunch we had on a grey morning, but I can’t for the life of me remember the name of the…
I’m feeling a little lazy. And working on a post about the Louvre that I hope will make you laugh. And having some fun with photos. Here are some I thought worked well together: – –
I’d like to deviate for a moment from my pastry tour of France to discuss my dalliance with an ambiguous piece of Bavarian taxidermy. – I should clarify (though I remain incredibly proud of that opening sentence): when I say Bavarian, I don’t mean that the actual taxidermical practices were ones that I’d distinctly associate…
My brain is a weensy bit fried. I’m in California, so blogging will be a little slow/light for the rest of the week. I’m visiting my aunt who just had heart surgery yesterday (and since I know you guys will ask, because you are thoughtful like that, she is doing wonderfully. Thank you for your…
I’m sick. I mean physically (though everything else is up for debate). I spent the weekend in Los Angeles, visiting my wee little nephew, who is, for those of you playing along at home, the cutest person on the face of the planet (even though he screams like an 1800’s dental patient whenever one of his…
– Rand and I spent the weekend in Boulder, imposing on friends. I did a whole lot of nothing, which isn’t dissimilar to how I spend my days in Seattle, but being in Colorado, the nothing was done at a higher altitude. This meant that it was slightly more work to do nothing.
Tales of Food, Feminism, and Fury
by Geraldine DeRuiter
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