I'm at the clavichord house and I'm having pizza and wine for dinner. Wine because the bottle on the countertop came with a note instructing me to either drink it or throw it out, and pizza because after searching high and low and finding absolutely no food, I finally had to give in and order Prospect. In case you were wondering though, dry red
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I hope you're giving those colonial tunesters extra caresses for me. You know I never could resist a good archaic instrument.
<3.
PS Today my dad said, "when you're 21 I'll make you a caiporinha!" (It's some kind of drink, the spelling is probably wrong.) Then he had to point out, because he's oh so hip of a dad, "Well I'll make you one now if you want. But it'll be more symbolic when you're 21." Oh Allen. I know he's waiting eagerly for October 1st, when he can finally show me the world of Latin American spirits (the alcoholic ones, not the ghosts, although he'd probably dig that too)!
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