Cool Drink of Water

Birdhouse Hosting welcomes “Roger Moore’s oasis in the cultural divide.” Roger is an old friend and confidante, the only other person I’ve met who shares a not-so-secret love for the Temple City Kazoo Orchestra, a dynamite chef, husband of one of my high-school friends, and one of the Bay Area’s foremost environmental defense lawyers. His weblog thus far comprises brilliantly written mini-essays and musings on the complexities and joys and poetry of Modern Life.

The exasperated chef regains composure as my little daughter, only recently able to walk, starts asking big daddy to bring her foods that her father, with his Midwestern upbringing, did not experience until at least age 25. “Baguette with goat cheese, daddy?” “hummus daddy?” “paella tonight, daddy?” I nod as she delivers a pointed set of requests that unmistakably identify her as a child of the East Bay, offspring of the edible garden. My wife walks in after not speaking to me for three hours, rolls the saffron-scented rice around in her mouth, touches me on the hand and tells me that maybe, just maybe, things will turn out okay. I love you, I didn’t mean it, neither did I, what’s for dessert?

Music: The Jam :: Music for the Last Couple

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