Mail!

In the mail:

New issues of Gourmet, Saveur, and Bon Appetit--they always arrive within days of each other. My food-porn fix is sated.

Two postcards from Julie Dill. She obviously understands what it's like to be Tony Robinson--the girl had to eat at Quizno's, for chrissakes! Poor thing. Go eat some foie gras now. Or roasted asparagus.

On the front of the cards--a baseball thingie place, and Iggy Pop touching himself.

A letter from the Oregon Employment Department announcing that my unemployment insurance overpayment has been paid in full! Goodbye Monthy Bill!

No passionate love letters.

*

My culinary proclivities have taken a turn toward the humble. This weekend I dined on chicken-fried steak and pizza. And beer. Lots of that.

Grading papers like a madman. Just finished twelve. Taking a break. I hope to be finished by tomorrow afternoon--then I'll begin penciling marginal notes all over Reb Livingston's Cackling Jackal.