scurvy

Okay, not really. But this is a tough time of year for fruit at Casa Alala. Apples and oranges are SO over. Grapes and kiwis still have to be flown in from Chile. The only things really ripe and semi-local at this time of year (um, Israel’s still in Europe, by Eurovision reckoning – but then, so is Algeria. What can I say, they do pop songs, not geography) are berries, and they sell for like a dollar each. And even though I haven’t actually lived in the Pacific Northwest for over ten years, I still think of it as home, and back home, berry bushes are basically weeds. I can’t bring myself to buy berries, anymore than I could plunk down $12 for a bunch of dandelions at a florist.

Song du jour of the day: Malta. They’ve never won, but they come in second a lot. They seem to have noticed that Russia tends to do well (its former satellite countries give it high points, so even when the Russian entry sucks, it comes in like third), so they name-check Gorky Park and call it Vodka, in a bid for the bloc vote. Psht. Get in line, sweetie.

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