Ahh. . . the Sweet Smell of French Fries

My nephew actually uttered this in the car on the way home from Red Robin one evening. Direct quote that my mother will bring up at his high school graduation, wedding, and whatever other time she can be embarrassing. Welcome to the family, Z! My "other brother darryl" evidently is opening three more restaurants in Miami, according to his website (see sidebar link). He was so annoyed by me this evening, critiquing said website, that he turned off his IM so I was just typing to air. His restaurant was featured on "Deco Drive", which I'm told is like Entertainment Tonight, but local and somehow he got filmed. So I'm waiting for this huge file to download of my brother on camera. (he didn't make the cut but they were nice enough to send him the clip?)

Although, I am not a television star (like J on the cutting room floor) . . . I am very sunburned. I edged some of my lawn, which has not been edged since the 1970's. Then I cut down some trees. My mother informs me that I cut them down WRONG and just made a mess but they are cut down, none the less. I like cutting down trees, or more clearly, thicket. Harold, the previous homeowner, was very depressed when his wife, Alice, passed away and proceeded to do NOTHING outdoors. No lawn maintenance, no weeding, no clipping or cutting. A weed that is left to it's own devices for thirty years becomes very big and sometimes becomes a tree. So that is what my backyard landscape is made up of . . . very large twenty to thirty foot weeds. I have four inch trees that grew up threw the chain-link fence so that the chain link is in the middle of the tree. It's a landscaper's nightmare.

Ahh . . . the sweet smell of french fries. Just focus on that. . .