Yeah, I know there is a typo in my previous entry. I saw it as soon as I clicked, “post.” Unfortunately, I haven’t made the decision to convert to the new Google Blogger irrevocable version so editing the post has proven to be a formatting nightmare. Just suffice it to say that I have lost plenty of time trying to make it better. I am off to slay another dragonfly.
My friend (as in bridesmaid–though I doubt she puts that on her resume–and godparent to my child), Tracey, has landed herself a year-long teaching gig in Japan. Swing by and say, “Hello” or “Konichiwa” if you are one of those intrepid speakers of foreign languages. I’m not. But I like to pretend I am and pepper foreign words into my every day speech. Between that and my penchant for saying “grad school” every 7 minutes, I am a pretentious cuss to be around. Yeah, can’t fix that, either.
What can I fix? A mean grilled mozzarella cheese sandwich on whole wheat with–oh my universe–Penzey’s Sandwich Sprinkle on it. I don’t make a dime off of the stuff, so it is with pure heart that I say, “How did I ever live without this???”
(Warning: do not try to substitute said sandwich for phase 1 of your gastro-bypass diet. Dreaming of said sandwich is perfectly acceptable, though.)
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