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Saturday, June 23, 2012

bees are not wasps

so, alas, we thought the hundreds of swarming and flying about behind one of our windows were wasps -- to which I am dreadfully allergic -- and, our next-door neighbors, des provencaux ("Marianne,
nous sommes des paysans!") enlightened (how do you spell this anyway?) us last night -- when, because of having removed everything for the rat, we had, I had, chosen some rather mediocre quiches from an about-to-close boulangerie.. everything closes at 12 of course, so everyone can go home and have their fresh bread for lunch,  not to open until 3... and they had brought  homemade quiche

that kind of evening and Serge, our lovely neighbor who had put up our ironwork for our overhanging vine, hated above all asparagus, which is exactly what else we were serving

but we had a grand time with our white wine from Bedoin, which is all they now drink, having given up"Pastis -- forget Provence and its pastis, so  very Peter Mayle -- anyway, it is funny and  nice

and I am still trying to write introductions to my Modern Art Cookbook , out in Fall of 2013, STILL getting permissions and such, with my illegible handwriting, as if I should have typed out 53 permission letters, yes? etc.

living in a cab anon is a full-time job anyway, you like it or you don't.... 
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