Nothing to show for all these silent weeks. The weather turned hot, motivation sapped. Who wants to turn on an oven when the house feels like an oven all on its own? Instead I have followed the World Cup, despite never having been a major football fan. Nevertheless, I had my preferences (France was chief among them, though they proved early on to be lacklustre and idiotic. Teddy, wisest of the wise, has given his nod to the Netherlands since the beginning. It seems his support predicted a much brighter tournament than mine did).
"Quelle est cette langueur / qui pénètre mon coeur?" (Verlaine)
For every day and every moment, a poem or a song seems to fit the mood.
When I ask for iced coffee, I would give anything for a plain iced americano. Not a sickly sweet, overpriced shot or two of espresso poured over a cup of ice. (Coffee, the beverage, and sugar do not mix.) Sure, I could probably have just added water over the espresso shots and ice to achieve my desired effect. But it still would have been sweetened, which ruins the entire effect. (It is no accident that the only thing I know how to say in Arabic is, "I would like unsweetened coffee.")
Lately, amidst my lack of baking, I have been driving too much. And feeling like there are definite cuts to be made.