The Treadmill is Always Running

Wendy's Drive-Thru

Very Gray Sunday

Emphatically Not Ravioli

Friday Night Hibernation

What's in the Cupboard?

Dinner in the Car on the Way to a Movie on a Dark Night

Melancholia Requires Pork

X and O

Eating Late Again

The Salt

Late Night Dining

Take Out

A Reveletory Post

A few things about Flutephobia:

When I was five, I cut my hair like Dorothy Hamill. It has remained (relatively) short since.

My favorite food for the past year or so has been parsley. I am a slave to parsley.

I hate the flute. By this, I mean the way it sounds. I endeavor to play the flute like Kathleen Turner.

I am in a cooking rut. But things are looking up.

Bustin'

There is too much to report from my trip to the Tri-State Area.
I did, however, eat pizza in New Jersey, New York, and Connecticut.
I ate so much pizza.
I discovered a food allergy.
I ate the largest bowl of kimchi stew I've ever seen.
I ate a hot dog at a hockey game.
I dug out bone marrow with a dainty little spoon.
I'm the one currently wandering Albuquerque with the top button of my pants undone.