After a certain point, everything I write starts to sound the same: we cooked a big meal, it was delicious, and we all love each other soooo much. Well, it's true. But boring.
Tag: naomi
Duck, duck, grease
Last night was Sunday and Peter's birthday--a double call for dinner. Tamara's sharp invitation to dinner at Peter's new apartment (housewarming too: make that a triple call for dinner) reminded us it was his Jesus year, and that the birthday boy should be affectionately referred to as "you fucking fag."