I know that this is long overdo but what can I tell you? I won't lie. I haven't been busy. Just lazy and lacking the energy to do anything that remotely resembles productivity. Wouldn't want to break this unbelievably long streak. Thirty years and still going. I know, the lady doth protesteth too much or something like that.
Just wanted to get your input regarding a story that Jared told me the other day. He said that he had recently, at work, done a favor for one of his subordinates. He didn't have to but apparently she's a hard worker and an all around likeable gal so he felt that she deserved some love. I'm not sure what he did but that's beside the point. He knew that her husband was a pastry chef so when she asked him if there was anything that she could do to repay him, he jumped on the opportunity quickly and asked her politely for an eclair. In all fairness, I see now that he was asking her husband for an eclair and she was merely the messenger. Nevertheless, this is all that he asked in return for the favor that he had done. The following two days she brought in brought two big pastry boxes filled with the most succulent and decadent pastries that one could imagine. Which would have been great if not for the fact that in neither of the boxes was an eclair to be found! Quite a dilemma. Because if it were me, I would have to ask about the eclair. I wouldn't be able to not ask. He won't though because he has a vagina and what can you do about these things. I am left to speculate as to the reason for the missing eclair. I'd like to think that the eclair is his kryptonite. I can picture this guy at a fancy culinary arts institute in France, studying with world-renowned pastry chefs, and when they get to the chapter on eclairs, this guy just falls apart. He cries in his flour, nothing will rise, his face is covered with the cream that goes inside the eclairs...and not the really white cream-the kind that comes in the cheap eclairs, but the good yellowish cream that is the trademark of the fancy eclair. It's in his hair, it has been slathered all over his his face and mouth by his cold and tormented French instructor, Jean Philippe. This is what I'd like to believe.
More to come.
Wednesday, June 15, 2005