I'm stretching you out like elastic
I just slept almost fifteen hours. I didn't think I was physiologically capable of sleeping fifteen hours anymore. I dreamed about grad school, my cousins, and briefly Sherlock Holmes. I assume it was catch-up not just from the marathon but from the previous week of niece-care; I'm sure it was very good for me. I'm just not sure what to do about the fact that I had plans for the day and none of them involved waking up in time for dinner.

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(Oh, good. I do like to make sure everyone has ample fancy meat when they visit. And visits will happen again and this clears the deck for The Greek Place Where You Eat for Three Days, or something.)
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I'm so sorry. I wish I thought Mamaleh's chicken liver would ship without arriving with language skills.
(Oh, good. I do like to make sure everyone has ample fancy meat when they visit. And visits will happen again and this clears the deck for The Greek Place Where You Eat for Three Days, or something.)
What, can you order a hekatomb?
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*hands you a foil-lidded sheet tray*
We're going to have to learn haruspicina via feta. The health department knocks you down a letter for entrails on the floor.
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Words can't capture how much I miss chicken liver prepared well.
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I'm also the lone appreciator in my house. Ah! There's a theme for the "where should we eat dinner" discussion at our next in-person con. I think it will happen!