Whistlepig: 0.
Who knew that those little bastards could climb trees? I sure didn’t. But they can, and do.
And then they fall on your head while you’re watching them gradually keel over from puncture wounds of unknown origin.
Glad he was dead. I now completely understand why it’s not cool to stand directly under the monkey you’re shooting with a blowgun dart.
because, i assume, so many are on vacation- but I also notice that the ones who remain tend to be the better drivers, though some have issues.
Last thursday on the way in, I was in a slow spot caused by an accident close to a tollbooth. In the left lane was a guy on an 80’s vintage Yamaha Virago. There were flames coming out from under his seat. I rolled down the window. I yelled at him. “Your ass is on fire”. He looked down at what I was pointing at. He hopped off the bike. He was doing about 8 mph. He continued to sort of run-stagger-hop down the safety lane for a coupls of yards, the bike wobbled off to collide with the jersey barrier.
issues.
Never did figure out what caused the underside of his bike seat to be on fire.
Therre used to be a little french place in Crown Point called Bon Appetit
Louis Retallieu was a master chef, and the restaurant was amazing. They lived upstairs, served guests downstairs, and Louis was a family friend. On several occasions I sat in his little private dining area with a group of friends and yapped late into the night, drinking expensive wines and smoking fine cigars while the pate came to the table in loaves like bread, and everyone argued about rugby (Except me, of course, i was busy taking in the food).
I hardly ever ate an entree there, the appetizers and dessert courses were so amazing. Louis made his own pate, which was insanity itself, served it on some kind of a crisp wafer whose subtle flavor made the pate stand big and tall, and the caper berries and juice therefrom wetted the pate and the crisp and opened the taste buds to receive the wondrous taste. A few sprinkles of a crumbly cheese of some kind that had a slightly nutty and fruity flavor completed the dish. Combined with a glass of Chateau Rieussec from the mid 90’s and a cup of espresso, it was a meal all unto itself, in aroma, flavor, richness, and it’s overwhelming ability to satisfy.
Following this was a poached pear, drizzled with a slightly sweet sauce which combined the flavors of honey and coffee, which took advantage of the already overtittilated taste buds and slapped them into submission, and you didn’t want to eat for the next three days, so as to retain the aftertaste for the longest possible period.
