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Kind of Blue

That's me today. Post-Mardi Gras letdown. Missing my godfather. I wonder if it's ever possible to feel you did enough for a person you loved, spent enough time with him, appreciated him as much as you could have. I doubt it.

My current eBay auctions -- Guilty But Insane, a U.K. ARC of Swamp Foetus, and two badass Carnival-themed blank books -- end today. I know things are tough all over, but we are simultaneously trying to pay off a $600+ vet bill and start a restaurant, so please have a look if you can.

[ETA the day's bright spots so far:

1. Thanks to Times-Picayune gardening columnist Dan Gill, I learned the name of a little plant I have loved all my life even though it is a weed.


When I was very young (4 or 5), I remember that henbit had a subtle, delicious fragrance, but now that I am old, I cannot smell it at all.

Dan Gill also helped me ID three of the major weeds that plague my garden -- chickweed, wild geranium, and the hideous burweed, which not only chokes out other vegetation but also makes me itch if I pull it without gloves -- but that wasn't as enjoyable, though I suppose now I can curse them by name as I yank away at their roots.

2. Plantation Cheese Log: The deep South's equivalent to paté. Thanks for this gem go to marquisdd and the "Cajun-Creole" restaurant he located in Dublin.]

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January 2015


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