🇪🇸 Meanwhile in Costa Brava, Spain
Both Spain & France are on fire like never before right now.
44 people wanted for Arson in France, 16 in Spain - this is coordinated & deliberate.
The mainstream media has tried to portray the wildfires that is happening in Europe now as a result of climate change.
France just announced they have arrested 162 people in connection with starting fires.
Customer: "Oat milk, please. Trying to lower my footprint."
Barista: "Course. Happy with the rapeseed oil in it?"
Customer: "Rapeseed oil? In milk?"
Barista: "It's not milk. It's oats, water, and a good glug of seed oil for the creaminess."
Customer: "I avoid seed oils."
Barista: "You're about to wear a moustache of one."
Customer: "...Almond, then?"
Barista: "Lovely. How do you feel about draining California?"
Customer: "The soy?"
Barista: "Comes with a complimentary top-up of oestrogen. On the house."
Customer: "...Coconut?"
Barista: "Flown across an ocean, and more saturated fat than lard."
Customer: "What's the little carton at the back?"
Barista: "That one's just milk. Cow, field, grass, done. No factory, no solvent, no asterisk."
Customer: "And the footprint on that?"
Barista: "She made it out of rain. Yours is the taxi you took here to ask."
Don’t let your life 'narrow'.
I’ve been an orthopedic surgeon for 30 years. The thing I watch happen to people — more than any injury or surgery — is what I call the narrowing.
Most of my patients have no idea it’s happening. They think it’s just aging. It’s not...
USA. A breakfast counter. The waitress recommended the biscuits and gravy, and when the plate arrived, I thought something had gone wrong in the kitchen.
I say this with shame. The dish looked like a construction site after rain. Pale mounds. Gray ladle-fall. Speckles I could not identify.
In my land, the eye eats first. A meal is arranged like a garden. This meal was arranged like weather.
"Is it… finished?" I asked, carefully.
"Honey, that's what it looks like."
The man beside me was already eating his. He did not look up. "Just try it."
I am a man who has charged hillsides at dawn. I raised the fork. I tried it.
I must now formally apologize to the biscuits, the gravy, the waitress, the kitchen, and the entire breakfast tradition of the American South.
It was magnificent. Warm. Peppered. The biscuit drank the gravy the way a field drinks rain — THAT is why it is shaped like that, you fool — and every mound I had insulted was a soft fold of comfort that my homeland, in eight hundred years, never once thought to invent.
"Well?" the waitress asked.
"I judged it," I confessed. "By its appearance. I am ashamed."
"Everybody does, hon."
Everybody does. A national dish that forgives you for doubting it. It expects the doubt. It waits for you on the other side of it.
Do not judge the gravy by its face. Judge yourself, for hesitating.
I order it every Saturday now. I no longer see the construction site. I see only the garden.
It was a garden the whole time. The eye must be trained.
Wild idea but working through your issues with your family offline might be better than rage-posting about an entire generation. I sense some of your anger is deeply personal & not actually about the housing market.
Cheers.