French Butter & Gator Feet
2 January 2014
I decided that my potboiler (which I’m fond of) needs to be separate from my diary, so it won’t be appearing online anymore. I realized that it has to have a plot (ew!) and that to make the plot work, I might have to go back and add or change facts in the early chapters. So I’m going to keep the whole thing in my own hands until the story is done. It’s going to be short. With food and weather. And a plot.
We went to this great food store called Koreana Plaza. Enzo got an alligator foot (frozen), two mangos and a melon Japanese soda. I got French butter, tiny tortillas at their in-house tortilleria and soju. And we ogled the Russian cakes and the Indian spices and the live frogs. They were out of live sturgeon, so we have to go back. Given the comprehensiveness of their offerings it’s a little surprising that I couldn’t find Ethiopian cardamom for my mom. Never mind. I have another source.
When we got home, Enzo gave me a makeover. My notes from this say, “Don’t open them yet. Hmmmm…that’s not your color. Biscuits!” The results can best be described as edgy.
I asked him where he learned about makeovers and massage, which he also took up recently, at least the karate chop-chop-chop part.
“Hex Girls. Scooby Doo.”