Yes, after these strawberry tarts with almond crust and chamomile-lavender coconut cream I am pretty much going to quit my regular job and move around the country with seasonal strawberries, making strawberry tarts in every town until they go out of season, then packing up my paring knife and tart pans and moving to the next strawberry harvest, how did you know?
Apparently all of Facebook (which, horrrifyingly—extra r for the extra horror—, has become how I measure what the big news stories of the day are) really really cares about Michael Jackson and Farrah Fawcett both dying today. I feel sorta horrible saying this, but I sort of don’t. I mean, I care because they were (to varying degrees) fairly decent people (one a lot more than the other, of course) and fairly young and it’s sad when people die. But it doesn’t mean anything to me, and I’m having one of those weird moments where I realize that everyone sort of grew up with Michael Jackson and I grew up with, like, the soundtrack to Hair. It’s a strange feeling. Pop culture—I’m just not that into it.
Happy am I, however, to have a blog where I can deposit such random strange feelings. I can now go off to sleep safe in the knowledge that should anyone be wondering what I think about MJ’s death in the next seven hours in which I am out of commission, my bases are covered. What would we do without the internetz? Why is adding extraneous “z”s to words so rad?
Must. stop. taking. pictures. with. camera. phone.