wednesday nights are spaghetti night in our house. and it wouldn't be spaghetti night if forest, the neighbor boy, wasn't poking around. turns out he's wild for my garlic bread. now if only i could get him to do the dishes.
i am a boulder-based restaurant publicist, music critic and mother. i believe i have the right to salt and pepper my own food, i dislike bands who don't understand the power of economy in song performance, and i now realize that a tango lesson + three mt. gay and tonics = one hell of a great kid. i am happiest in the summer, riding shotgun with my feet up on the dash and my hand inside a bag of pork rinds. and yes, i know what's in them.
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