Currently, I’m reading Heat by Bill Buford. It’s a memoir of his time in Mario Batali’s restaurant, Babbo. One of the sous-chef’s taught Bill how to, “cook with love.” He goes on to write that the success of a meal is determined by how much love is included in the preparation. Simply put, this sums up my entire families history of cooking.
There is supposed to be another post here. Bloody. Hell.
One day, I will really know how to do amazing things on the internet. Right now I’m just treading water.
I don’t now CSS and I barely know HTML. I am just trying to make a pretty blog. Two columns. Pictures. Not that much, right?
I am going to Atlanta to visit Will and Sara. The trip is far too short to qualify as vacation, and I suspect I will be drinking enough to kill off a number of weak brain cells. As long as this drinking does not include any Rum, I believe I will be okay. If the trip does include rum, I would like my possessions to be divvied up in the following way:
•Sara can have my condo.
•Tony can have my car
•Lauren can have my music (just make copies of it for others)
•Jessie can have my desktop
•Gina can have my lap top
•Michael can have my bike
•Williamson can have my debts
•jackie can have my share of the cabin, paid for by my 401k
•Greg can have the old katana’s
•Will can have my dad’s law books and notes
•Seth can have the Guineess glasses.
•Eric can have the old g4 desktop
•Wagner can have my badge.
•Caitlin can have that Yeats book I promised her
Whatever cash I have in my pension is to be split between Eli and Sydney
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