Letters from Grenada

confessions of a reformed tourist

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lemme tell you about love, people

Love is letting your snotty-faced toddler “borrow” your precious cocoa butter stick. His nose is sore, he says.

Bean, do you know what rhinovirus is?

WHAT?

Never mind, honey. And you can keep that cocoa butter stick. It’s yours now. Mommy doesn’t want it back.

And now I’m sick. It was inevitable.

Snotty-faced toddlers are like sleeper cells, man. Does the CIA know about the adorable kid vector? Because correctly deployed these germs could totally turn Vietnam AROUND. 

Today at work I’m wearing jeans, sneakers and a Cornell hooded sweatshirt. At least I’m cozy. (Have I mentioned that I love my job? I love my job.)

Anyhoo. Hopefully I’ll feel better soon and manage to finish the follow-up post I wrote re: Obama and his Nobel Prize. I also have something cooking about Beenie Man’s Muscle Tongue. And a mini rant about how not all island nations are the same, thankyouverymuch. Oh and a funny anecdote about Samson, Delilah and Hillary Clinton.

 World enough and time. World enough and time.

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Grand Anse Beach
piscesinpurple [at] gmail [dot] com



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