Listening to: "Life Support" from Rent, specifically at 0:27
So. French people weigh their groceries at a place away from the register. I had to run, frazzled, to weigh my numerous veggies, and when I came back, I could see a line of angry Parisian shoppers. Ah. Please don't stone me.
And with a twinge of annoyance, I recall that I would get scolded for not knowing the vegetable weight code for anise. I still remember the code for bananas: 4433. Bananas are super popular.
Anyway, came home to cook. I hadn't found chicken stock, so I used a bouillon cube. Big mistake. An even bigger mistake was letting Nicole taste it. She made that face that I make all the time--should-I-tell-you-that-you-suck-at-your-professed-talent. I hung my head in shame and cleaned my mess. I should blame solely myself, but I blame the fruitless search to find chicken broth in a grocery store.
On a totally random note, I saw either a Pongo or Perdita today.
I am very, very sorry. I guess this is the part where I should lock myself in the stockade.
Hey, there's always hope in tomorrow.
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