Life: Idiotropic

"And the rain, rain, rain came down, down, down..."

It would not have surprised me if Piglet had floated by in one of Pooh's honey pots.  The rain was coming down in torrents.  So loudly that between it, the hairdryer behind me, and the little white mask that protected Cynthia from the fumes that intoxicated us, I was really struggling to hear her questions and reply in anything remotely coherant.  She loves to talk.  We must be boring customers.  Hard to be overly chatty without the proper vocabulary and comfort level.

Got my toes done making my Italian manicurist laugh when irreverant me compared my feet scrapings to Parmisano Reggiano.  Will go back, but am hoping that one of these days, they will get a proper pedicure chair.  I think I just got a workout holding my leg up for so long while sitting up in the hairdressers chair.  So very not relaxing.

Fortunately finished at an interval void of precipitation so we only had to slosh through the puddles to our coffee shop and find comfort in the usual cafe con leche and "manzana" which is not a healthy apple as the name suggests, but a really yummy nut topped apple pastry.

Gave the lemon bar recipe to them - written out in my not-quite-perfect, but fairly readable Spanish and got the verbal "how-to" for the "tartufo" that I love so much.  This, of course, led to the discussion of cream and how it is nearly impossible if not completely impossible to actually buy fresh cream here.  In fact, some customers have questioned his pastries (oh, they are heavenly) because he gets fresh cream and the locals are so used to the over-pasteurized flavor, that they think that the fresh is actually spoiled.  

Humph.  So he gets fresh cream.  I wonder if I could get just a little.  I don't even like the flavor of the pasteurized stuff in my coffee.  Gross.