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 Friday, April 28

You know you're getting old when you run home on a Friday night because you're all excited about some milk that's been fermenting on your counter for a day or so. And when drinking said beverage is one of the high points of your day. (Tied for first with getting PAID, hallelujah and hosanna, the house is safe from the revenuers for another quarter.) I am thrilled with the whole kefir concept and think it's just about the healthiest thing I've eaten all day... and I eat really well.

Here is my favorite part of the kefir legend:

To ferment the milk, the Caucasians placed the milk and the Kefir in a sack made from animal hide and usually hung the sack near the door, so that any one entering, or leaving, the house was expected to prod the sack to mix the contents.
Around here, the job is just to agitate the jar, like when you develop film. But I'm sure you can understand why I prefer the expression "prod the sack".

I have to post about the dead baby bird. It's still there, looking for all the world like a little buffalo wing on the sidewalk until you're right up on it. I wish some animal would take it away, since it's even sadder now that (highlight if you dare) someone has stepped on its gore or anything, just flat as a pancake from the neck on up. LA LA LA anyway it's been a lovely day, low 60s and sunny, a perfect denim jacket day. (Yes, that same denim jacket from 19coughcough with the lavender paint splotches and the street sign still visible on the shoulders.) Glad I didn't get rid of the thing when I was too fat to wear it.

10:58 PM

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