me with my feet in a basin of hot water that marlon was kind enough to set out for me. i never knew the soles of your feet could hurt. it started with an ache on the bottom of my heels and spread out during the longest mass i've ever attended (almost 2 hours at novena church). after a little over two months of lessons, i've come to identify flamenco with hurts you never knew you could have -- pain shooting down the insides of your forearms, the length and front of your thighs, the soles of your feet, the sides of your ribs. fortunately that's not all i associate it with, which is what keeps me coming back for more. i associate it, surprisingly enough, with choral singing.
(that reminds me, i have yet to blog about flamenco. i promise, my beloved las otras, i will! bagbagabagbagabag! all i can say about it for now is that if i had a flamenco stage name, today it would have to be La Bloatana. damn this time of the month.)
marlon and i frantically trying to polish off the perishables in the ref before we catch our 11:50 pm flight to seoul. we don't want to come back after a week to any nasty surprises. the leftovers this evening are great -- cold couscous salad and chicken drumsticks with barbeque sauce made from scratch. this was the menu for yesterday's lunch, when we had shrenik and shivaani over. the barbeque chicken is something of a showstopper and seems to be our default dish for guests; i made it when we had david and phyllis, our first-ever guests for dinner, a few months ago.
me with extra strength zit cream caked on the whopper that's taken up residence on my cheek.
marlon putting toiletries into my pink suitcase.
utter peace and quiet.
it's a nice way to leave home.
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