so the Frenchman comes and bakes a pie, quel cliche

Ahh the funness of the weekend continued with a visit from my friend Axel from France. Fresh from a trip to see his girl in Lithuania, he was in good spirits and we had a great couple days catching up and hashing out IPSF plans for the up and coming year (his plans, that is, as my IPSF days will be over in less than a month. More on the mixed feelings accompanying that later).

I do not know if I have expressed my lack of interest in cooking and/or baking before, but let's just say subsequent to the arrival of my guest I had the grand total of some maple syrup (how Canadianly ironic, I know), ketchup, and grainy mustard in the fridge. Not even a bag o' salad. And then Axel shows up and decides WE NEED TO BAKE A PIE. Okay. Sure. This to someone who isn't even quite certain her oven can support the baking of a pie.

(Note from the Editor: Just because I DON'T, doesn't mean I CAN'T...have been known to come forth with many a tasty treat for friends and neighbours. All in the name of more than adequately providing for guests during a festive soiree...)

So, at any rate, within one hour Chef Axel had whipped up une tarte au citron très délicieux. To make things interesting we paired said tarte avec des Turkish Pizzas. A forum of Internationalism if there ever was one.

So that brings us to Sunday. Thoughts are pre-occupied....O que acontecerá no futuro? A mente doba, o coração bate, o estômago faz sacudidelas. www.freetranslation.com has become my link to language expansion (for the time being, working on that one). Jitter jitter jitter jitter.

Down a completely different vein of thought, I think I have identified in myself a serious addiction to summer footwear. Yes, my name is Myriah, and I am a strappy-sandal-aholic. Meh, whaddya do...get a pedicure and go with it.

SUNSHINY day, off to preserve the tan.