I'm drinking gazpacho in Erin's bedroom, eying the bottle of Bombay Sapphire she has sitting there. The gazpacho is lumpy in bits; the blender went AWOL and I had to pull out my hand-held blender to turn chopped vegetables into chilled soup. This is the calm after the storm. The calls to Rimouski, the government forms I needed to lie on in order to
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(But aren't you referring to my post?)
(Also, I added 'fruit salts' to my livejournal interests. You should too, so we'll be in a special fruit salts club. Not that we aren't already, of course).
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