Have I recovered from the trauma of being the mother of a twenty-one year old person, you ask? The answer, my friends, is of course I haven't.
In honor of today, November the Twentieth (they tell me next week is Thanksgiving, which, even though it's late this year, seems impossible), I present:
A (Non-Comprehensive) List of Things I'm Not Interested In:
I'm not saying I couldn't develop an interest in one of these things in the future, because who would ever have guessed my enthusiasm for things like poetry, clouds, birds, feathers, beach stones, Buddha, chickens, etc. years ago? But. I am pretty much bored by all of the above subjects, with the exception of sword swallowing, which horrifies me.
New things today: I bought some harissa, which I've had on my grocery list for about two years, and I'm making Shakshouka with it. I'll let you know (speaking of which, the ketchup fried rice came out great)! What was the other thing? Damn. I forgot.
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