Fiddlesticks and pish posh.
I just had a very nice entry apologizing for the silly hubris of that recent narcissistic food-related frenzy.
It has been, appropriately, eaten.
Damn.
I had said something to the effect that I know people who draw things. I know people who sing things. I know people who photograph things. I do not really create...well, anything (aside from what you are reading right now, anyway). I think the whole food thing is my creative outlet. Even making webpages does not provide me with artistic latitude: I am largely limited to the choice of whether to put those extra five pixels here or here, which you probably might imagine, equals about as much creative input as none at all.
Then I think I said some other stuff about food and how neat it is, but I no longer recall exactly what. I am sure, however, that it was profound and spoke directly to something that makes a deep emotional connection with everyone reading this, in a very personal, intimate way. It might even have made you cry real tears. Now I bet you are crying because you will never get to read it, right?
Right?
Anybody?