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Darlin,

How are you doing over there in sunny VA Beach? Well, I hope. Denis and I think of your scarves often, and shriek like over agitated schoolgirls who have had enough with short, itchy plaid skirts whenever there is mention of a particular pink fiber you modestly wear around your neck to protect you from that unyielding cold which does not beckon with wisps of appropriately temperatured warmth. At any rate, Denis is coming into town tomorrow (he is driving 5 hours just to see little ole me!), and shall be here until the 1st, I think. We should all hang out and:

a) partake of bread (I got a bread machine for xmas), wine, and whatever else in ways that would cause the Pope to indelibly blush in jealousy, and/or,

b) lather ourselves up into a textual fury, only to be relieved by the firm but supple hand of cultural studies aided by authenticity, which has no choice but to discipline and redirect our frustrations, and/or

c) fulfill some or even all of our fantasies involving a sampling of those ever delicate fruits burning a hole in our respective pocket(s) (hey, is that a pomegranate in your pants, or are you just happy to see me?) like new age housewives who just cant get enough going buck wild with expensive exotic cookbooks and food processors and who, upon concluding a visit to her naughty psychotherapist, rushes home to grind those pleasures of the palate to the warm, pulsating buzz of their 21 cup capacity Cuisinart Deluxe whilst bucking like a cowgirl riding a bull she just won’t let go. I'll bring the mangos.

(pregnant pause)

xoxo,

Jane Torpedo