my kitchen, for half an hour just now, was buried in flour. sometimes i work like a seven-year-old: pitch 8 oz. flour into madly spinning kitchenaid! stand back! flourcloud!
mmmm. i'm tempted to ask someone to send me one-a them over-forwarded questionnaires so that i can see what my answers are, these days. (you know: "what's under your bed?" "what do you like to drink?" "who do you like to take under your bed after drinking?")
i await, absolutely quivering, the new laurie anderson CD, which i ordered in a materialistic fit this morning. mmmm.
if i lived in a pumpkin shell / i'd have the key / and if i had a daughter / she'd look a lot like me / and we dance all night and we dance all night and we dance all night ...::.kristin hersh.::.
