Brazilian import/export business. That'll do it.
Maybe it's just me, but anytime I hear "import/export", I always think of either drugs, prostitution, or something else highly illegal that makes a lot of money. Yet, there is the tinge of perhaps-this-is-a-legitimate-business. Heh.
If we can manage to sneak this into our alumni notes, I'll let you know!
Enough of what idle minds think up. Yes, I did take an extended leave from writing here, without warning, and did think of making it permanent. What with all the academic writing I've been doing of late, and the fact that, you know, I like to have a life where I get out of the house and do fun things, I didn't have the energy or wherewithal to write more, especially when it wasn't required. I'm still a little ambivalent about continuing here - I've enjoyed it, but I feel bad when I'm not constantly posting new bits. So we'll see how this continues along. It'll probably be more sporadic, that's for sure, and I'm not making any promises I can't keep.
Anyways. Did you know it was my birthday last weekend? No? Well, shame on you. It was, and I am now one year older (albeit probably no more mature nor wiser).
And thus, I decided to drown my liver in vodka (there is a Russian-themed vodka bar near my apartment. To say that it's my new favorite place is an understatement). But before we could drink, I decided to be "responsible" and feed a small group of close friends beforehand - because, you know, food before alcohol is good, while food after alcohol doesn't do a damn thing to soak up any of that booze, no matter how good it tastes.
So there were little baked wonton cups filled with either feta, fried onions, and sautéed mushrooms or chèvre, figs, and bacon. There were marinated carrots and a spinach and corn salad (no picture, sadly) to go along with meatball sliders.
And of course there was cake - a Smith Island cake, which is actually far easier to make than it looks.
Party favors are always a must - this year, I made baby madeleines and put them in a charming white lacquered box. Pretty pretty!
And of all treats, someone brought me a box of the cutest baby cupcakes and dessert shots, which made for a fine hangover treat as I lay on the couch watching Federer beat Djokovic, and wondering how I could find myself a nice 6'3 tennis player to massage my back. Because wouldn't that just be the life?
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