Of potholes and pickles
Clearly, these are not litigious people.
Otherwise, they'd never let this happen.
You almost lost me to a pothole the size of a small crater-shaped meteoroid, but I used my cat-like reflexes and fell into the side of a building instead.
And why in the world did I never learn to pickle things? I love the tangy taste of pickled cabbage and pickled peppers and pickled carrots and pickled pickles. Once again, Amela has made me feel sadly inadequate in the kitchen. Now, she just pats me on the head, wraps up a jar of pickled salad, and sends me home.
And, why, yes...Good eye. That is the old Mostar bridge in the background.
She's so creative...
We hate her.
Otherwise, they'd never let this happen.
You almost lost me to a pothole the size of a small crater-shaped meteoroid, but I used my cat-like reflexes and fell into the side of a building instead.
And why in the world did I never learn to pickle things? I love the tangy taste of pickled cabbage and pickled peppers and pickled carrots and pickled pickles. Once again, Amela has made me feel sadly inadequate in the kitchen. Now, she just pats me on the head, wraps up a jar of pickled salad, and sends me home.
And, why, yes...Good eye. That is the old Mostar bridge in the background.
She's so creative...
We hate her.
posted by J. at
7:52 AM
1 Comments:
Thank you for keeping up your blog. You have inspired me to recreate mine as well. :-) Me and my resourceful stick have many adventures to share with the world... :-)
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