My Pizza the Pie
After a trip to the store of healthy and organic foods, I slipped over to the Dollar Tree for a pie cutter. Instead, I came away with a cake slicer that might be used by the thriftiest of caterers (whatever that might mean). I also bought a new wheel d'pizza. My last one disintegrated cutting through an Amy's Roasted Vegetable pizza.* What is most interesting is my attention turned to standard American Pie and the pizza cutter was relegated to priority two. And seeing that is the most interesting gives the reader an idea to my current condition: not swell.
Symptoms of a cold moved in approximately 20 minutes before my departure from work. A mere beer* knocked me out at 8PM and I awoke at 11 in the chair, with puffed eyes and disheveled mind.
On the rapid ("train" to non-Clevelanders), I've been reading a short novel entitled Budapest by Chico Buarque. It tells of a South American ghostwriter who becomes enamored with the Hungarian language and, eventually, builds a new life and identity in Hungary. I thought it was fascinating that I found Budapest at a library booksale almost by chance, and the book puts me in mind of works of my favorite author, Paul Auster***
No peanut butter in the house. I bought a pizza (deliverable foodstuff) but no peanut butter (undeliverable). Maybe a peanut butter parlor will be my ticket to immortality.
* I am currently unable to link to said pie.
** Actually, Weyerbacher's Blithering Idiot Barley Wine is not "mere beer" at 11%. Especially for a puffed
lightweight such as m'self.
*** The concepts of "my being "put in mind" and actual similarities are often wildly discordant.
Symptoms of a cold moved in approximately 20 minutes before my departure from work. A mere beer* knocked me out at 8PM and I awoke at 11 in the chair, with puffed eyes and disheveled mind.
On the rapid ("train" to non-Clevelanders), I've been reading a short novel entitled Budapest by Chico Buarque. It tells of a South American ghostwriter who becomes enamored with the Hungarian language and, eventually, builds a new life and identity in Hungary. I thought it was fascinating that I found Budapest at a library booksale almost by chance, and the book puts me in mind of works of my favorite author, Paul Auster***
No peanut butter in the house. I bought a pizza (deliverable foodstuff) but no peanut butter (undeliverable). Maybe a peanut butter parlor will be my ticket to immortality.
* I am currently unable to link to said pie.
** Actually, Weyerbacher's Blithering Idiot Barley Wine is not "mere beer" at 11%. Especially for a puffed
lightweight such as m'self.
*** The concepts of "my being "put in mind" and actual similarities are often wildly discordant.