It was my birthday Saturday. Sure, I’m talking about it. It was pretty good. Three great events.
I discovered that baby goats come packed in blue storage containers. A stackable goat-herd is very practical for condos or other small dwellings.
Ici Bistro actually. Champagne to start and Grand Marnier souffle to finish. Also discovered from my mother that I practically was raised on veal brains (they sold them at Safeway). Apparently a popular dinner scrambled with eggs or breaded like schnitzel. Also we used to inflate pigs bladders and use them as balls (wait, I think that was Little House on the Praire). Such a similar life though.
Well, it’s true, I love Woody Allen. When I go to New York I have these little fantasies that I bump into him (usually in Central Park) and then I don’t know what happens after that part because I absolutely cannot be normal around famous people, not even Jim Cuddy from Blue Rodeo. Who I stood behind once when we were crossing the street at Yonge and Bloor and even that made me feel queasy in an “OMG it’s the back of Jim Cuddy!!!!” way.
Til next year then.