Tuesday, September 6, 2011


472. Having croque-monsieur (without ham), goat cheese on bread and proper coffee for breakfast, in someone else's clothes.

473. A Parisian offer that I cannot refuse (I watched The Godfather last night): "Do you want to be my remote office-mate?"

474. It is a Tuesday dinner, but not as we usually know it. Side by side, Gaston and I have prepared our own food separately, he making a zucchini/celery/tomato soup, while I loosely following Mark Bittman's zucchini/eggplant/onion ratatouille, us occasionally helping out each other. I also use the phrase "helping out each other" loosely, because basically it refers to Gaston's peeling and cutting zucchini for me, Gaston's showing me how to cook rice that does not come inside a plastic bag, and then ending up cooking it himself, Gaston's spicing up my ratatouille. In return, I make fun of his soup, and prepare a glass of freshly squeezed lime juice for him. With me drinking my also homemade orange juice, tonight is most likely the first Tuesday dinner that we do not finish, or even start, a bottle of wine together.

Me: So, if you do it in September, I will bake a cake for you every week.
Gaston: I don't want to become big and fat!
Me, looking him up and down, to pretend that he is already big and fat, a feeble attempt that fails miserably because he is neither big nor fat: OK, if you don't do it in September, you will have to bake a cake for me every week. I don't mind being big and fat...
Gaston, in a deeply caring voice: But I don't want you to become big and fat.
Me: Some men like that, you know.
Gaston: What have you been watching on the Internet??

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