1st Day of Labor Day Weekend 2012

Franklin Street Café for breakfast:  the biggest plate of Eggs Benedict and potato wedges and cups of coffee.

Redwood City Farmers Market:  1 big eggplant, five onions, five nectarines (meltingly sweet), 1 1/2 lbs. of seedless grapes

At home:  green tea and red bean ice cream bar from Marina Mart.  Verdict:  Self has yet to find a good ice cream bar from the oodles of Asian brands that are sold in Marina Mart.

It is no longer summer.  Can self say that?  Because it is already September.

The Man bought four huge bags of organic planting mix from Wegmans.  Everything was on sale except for soil.

Self bought a Bauer’s Dracaena with reddish leaves (Original price:  $17.99.  Since yesterday was the start of the Wegmans annual sale, it was 30% off).  Then found out afterwards that it is not frost-hardy.  This is what comes of wanting to buy plants at the Wegmans annual sale.  She gets very adventurous.  And the plants all die.

Still reading Nora Ephron’s I Feel Bad About My Neck.  Self had high hopes after reading the first essay.  After two more essays, self began to find the book a little too precious, a little too superficial.  She stuck with it, though, which was good, because later she encountered essays about living in New York, and about Ephron’s divorce(s), and those were great.  Now, self is close to the end, and she really really likes it.  This would be an excellent book to give her Manang Elenita, if she and self were still on speaking terms.   Here’s the opening to an essay called “Considering the Alternative” : “When I turned sixty, I had a big birthday party in Las Vegas, which happens to be one of my top five places . . .  One of my friends threw twelve passes at the craps table and we all made some money and screamed and yelled and I went to bed deliriously happy.”

Of tangential relation, since self is trying to give a vivid picture of the state of her life, her UCLA Extension “Essential Beginnings” class is officially over.  And boy, was this last class full of beans.  They kept her on her toes every single day.

Finally, why does The Man make margaritas every single afternoon?  Self can hardly see straight, and now it is time to prepare dinner. (Self, quit’cher complaining!  Is it not a boon to be slightly tipsy while in the midst of food preparation?  As long as one does not get clumsy with the knives!)

Stay tuned, dear blog readers.  Stay tuned.

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