April 14, 2010
Okay, so I know I'm weird. And you know I'm weird. And a lot of the time my weirdness revolves around food. Like those two months in Stockholm when I had broccoli with every meal. (Broccoli soup. Broccoli and pasta. Broccoli gratin. Raw broccoli with chive and onion dip... Broccoli in salad. Raw broccoli on its own is actually quite good too.) Or the couple of weeks in Edinburgh when all I had for dinner every night was carrots, cucumber and hummus. If I eat something I like I can eat it forever until I find some other food to obsess about.
Right now all I can think about is leverpastej. Does that mean I have an iron deficiency? Or am I just plain blank weird? I actually dreamt about it the other night. Swedish crisp bread and leverpastej and gherkins. My mom's homemade. Or the store bought kind. The type you slice. Or the one you spread. It doesn't matter really. I just want it so much that every breakfast I have is a dissapointment because I know what I could have if I was in Sweden.
Mamma, I'm home in three weeks. You'll get some for me right? Thanks, puss, love you.