I’m just back from a hike on the tablelands, and am sitting in a little restaurant in Trout River (population 150), overlooking the ocean. The guy who caught the fish we’re about to eat is fixing the front door, his wife is making coffee. I love it.
Joe is still laughing his newfie arse off because I looked for cilantro in the grocery store last night. Suffice it to say that they do not have it.
Yarn Harlot
We can forgive no cilantro, but what news of being sheep-less?
yeah, well…and I suppose he can find a good chip truck in T.O.,eh? yup, yup, yup…heh.
sounds so lovely…can you stand the bliss?
At least there was a grocery store! But would he be laughing so hard if you were to suggest he bike home with you? Or how about brave an Ontario winter without your handknit socks to keep his newfie tootsies warm? The nerve of a man! lord tunderin’…
You are free to remind Joe that Prince would not laugh at your desire for cilantro.
Gina — lmao!
Given that I hate cilantro, it sounds like you’re in the land of heaven to me. Maybe we could work a food exchange — your newfie, cilantro-less fish for one of our cilantro-laden fish tacos?