Today, after three glorious months of having muchmorefunthanIshouldhavehad as a contract attorney downtown, my project finally comes to a sad little end. Today is also the day that a lone window washer decides to wash away the foot-long streak of pigeon shit that for months marred my view of unemployed attorneys floating mid-day in the chlorinated pools atop their luxury Wilshire high rises. Great timing buddy. Ah well, I remain grateful, my experience here has enriched me far beyond what I would have predicted - from reaching, chip first, into a fragrant tub of Tex-Mex queso to debating the meaning of the nonsensical Waiting for Godot, I have been pushed to try things I never, never, never, never would have tried on my own given my various inhibitions (such as those towards pseudo cheese and translated texts). No longer will I err in my wine choices as I peruse the aisles of Ralph's in a cloud of confusion, as my wine-loving associate provided me with a handy 4x6 blue post-it titled, "The Following Are Not Real Wines:", a list which includes Yellow Tail, Charles Shaw and Barefoot (to my dismay). Because parting is such sweet sorrow, we plan to trade parting for partying with a Thanksgiving Eve dinner tonight. I am to bring the following dish: Corn off the cob with lime juice, fresh parsley, melted butter and salt+pepper. If you've never tried this, you must, it's what they eat upon fluffy clouds in heaven whilst twanging on gold plaited harps.
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