You may notice in the tags of this post that one says “the beer ran down my mustache.” While I do have a bit of a mustache (hell yeah to Ashkenazi heritage combined with my decision to remove body hair as little as possible) and while I am not always the neatest drinker of beer, that’s not what the tag is about. It’s a common closing formula in Russian wonder tales, where the teller, upon finishing some grand love story, will say: I was at their wedding and drank beer. The beer ran along my mustache but did not go into my mouth. The most familiar English-language formula is Once upon a time, but I’m not interested in battling Disney SEO and it’s far less evocative of food, drink, and the role they have in celebrations and in stories.
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In classic Chloe fashion, I’ve left a passion project to sit for nearly a full month and barely noticed the time go by. It’s been a busy month, but it’s about to get busier, what with Thanksgiving coming up; around this time of year I start really wanting to cocoon, but that’s not a full-time option. Unfortunate. But if I can’t do that, I can spend my days off doing things I like — baking, spending hours with my girlfriend watching TV or hanging pictures on my walls for the first time in the 3 years I’ve lived in this apartment, petting my cats, reading, listening to Ariana Grande…all the usual things that make weekends nice.
But weeknights are important too. I sometimes feel like I’m tripping toward the weekend, stumbling through the days of work before I get to the full days off. On busy days at work that feeling is intensified. With the weather changes and general stress, I keep getting little (and big) headaches. At work I eat the same things over and over, which I can’t really complain about (free!) but am going to anyway. There is a lot to be said for making your own food. Maybe I enjoy it so much because I don’t do it a lot.
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