At one point in Afghanistan, Sam told Ruben his idea for starting a food truck. Ruben filed his idea away as something for him to circle back to when they got back home.
Beyond the normal set of age-related conditions, Tara’s in great shape. Except she has Alzheimer.
The next couple of entries for Recipe Wednesday are about two Marines who started a food truck in New York City. I’m waiting for them to fact check the first post since it’s very much their story and I want to get it right. They should get back to me by tomorrow. We are not fake news here! In the meantime, here’s one of the recipes from that post.
You’re not alone! There is no way a sane person doesn’t feel like they need something to numb their frayed nerves.
The women would point out there’s a world going to hell in a hand basket right outside my door and I have no significant troubles to contrast them to.
As often observed, offices create weird families. Haphazardly formed though they are, they contain similar characteristic components of unity and division; joy and grief.
Take mine, for instance, an office universally considered within our institution to contain an unusual number of saints, misfits, myopic, insane (i.e. me), hanger-ons and true believers. Part of the reason for this is because we’re a creative division and this no doubt injects another layer of mayhem among us. But over time, it can be said that we sort of established a hard-won measure of acceptance and peace.