Lazy Beach

Lazy Beach is a spot I hope to visit on the way back to King Island from our American experience.

I didn't really consider the other meaning until I mentioned it to Peta and she thought I was cussing her.

Why she thought that I can't imagine.

After all, she made lunch today. This is the second time she's been so generous in the kitchen since we arrived in Boston. She made scrambled eggs with bacon. Bacon is not grilled in the States as they don't have a grill setting on the oven. They have a broil setting instead which seems quite similar to grilling in many ways but is actually rather more sophisticated. Anyway, lunch was made and it proved to be the high point of my day after which my mood slid downhill thanks largely to my diary being a little on the blank side which is not the most enlivening way to start the week.

Tomorrow is a whole other matter as not only do I have a visit to the dentists to look forward to but on my return I can visit the weekly Harvard Farmers Market to buy some delicious, tatty-looking, organic vegetables and a loaf of wonderful bread which turns to rock if not eaten within hours of purchase. For possibly the first time since my arrival in the US I have a third activity to add to this heady calendar and it's quite something, not just cooking dinner or picking pubes off the bathroom floor, we're going to the Paradise Rock Club to see Angus and Julia Stone.

It's turns out that they're Australian which seems a bit daft but I didn't know that until today. I should have guessed when I found out that the tickets were only were only $15.00 each which for a band that I've actually heard of seems ridiculously cheap.

Tune in this time tomorrow when I'll be uploading photos of the gig and writing a review.

Bacon, that was it.

So yes, I also went out for a walk to Harvard Wine Company  ( I said I was having a bad day) and left a note asking Peta to put the oven on for the pizza. Obviously I forgot that she had omitted to clean  the oven after broiling the bacon but I quickly remembered when I returned to a stinking smoke filled flat condo and was compelled to eat pizza that tasted of the black crispy droppings at the bottom of the oven.

I imagine this is similar to a mother who has their child treat them to breakfast in bed on Mothers Day. It's a nice idea but it tastes like shit and I know I'll have to spend the next hour mopping up milk, sweeping up cornflakes and picking bits of tea-bags out of the kettle.

I couldn't get the baked on burnt bacon fat out of the oven tray which would have made my day a total failure were it not for the fact that spurred on by a glass of wine I started planning for NaNoWriMo.