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February 10, 2002 there's no place like home If evolution progressed at the same rate that my culinary skills have improved, I'd be wielding my spatula with a pseudopod.  My soon-to-be-former-wife did all the cooking in my now-former life so I never learned how.  At the beginning of our separation, I subsisted on grilled meat, salads, scrambled eggs, and pasta.  My sister taught me how to cook rice, but she left town before teaching me how to make gravy.  I am presently in my lemon-butter period. Although I live in South Louisiana where there is no mountain, I inexplicably purchased a mountain bike today.  Okay, maybe it was explicable.  It was the only kind that didn't look like it should have a Toto-stuffed basket on the back.  The chain fell off during an unnecessary gear-shifting maneuver I attempted on the other side of town.  Thank God I was wearing ruby slippers.

©  2002 by the beastmaster