We started a fire, he snorted some of that snuff stuff up his nose.
The guests showed up and we ate some nasty swiss hot-dogs. Gross. If I never see another Bratwurst again before I die, it'll be too soon. There's just something about their pale, pasty white appearance and the way you have to gnaw through their skin that turns me off. I don't know. The guests seem to like them okay--but hell, the guests liked the turkey rolls.Then we came home, and made 6 lasagnas and 3 cakes. Wooh.
This is Andrea, she's the bounciest vollie ever. She likes my music, I think. Or she's an equal-opprotunity bouncer.
Last night, Jena and Jen and I watched one of my favorite movies ever: Drop Dead Gorgeous. We drank a bottle of wine that we found in Stöckli and talked kinda late about things like Scorpions and how we feel about the world. I can't quite remember everything but I felt fine in the morning. Jena says my problem is that I have no self-awareness in the way of strangeness. Or I lack the ability to care.
3 comments:
No! I said you have a self awareness of your strangeness now that you're older and that you don't care. And that's what makes a person free. Come on Kat, it was two glasses.
I miss Chalet lasagne.... :(
I def don't miss those horrible sausages! I think the worst bit was like you say, gnawing through the tough skin on them!!
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