Countdown to three hundred, or maybe we’ve passed that already.
It depends on how you look at it.
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The Rhône and the Rhône diaspora
Dear Feastlings, While this week’s email is a fraction less chipper than that of last week- admittedly, I counted some of those chickens before they were hatched- it still feels as though we’re on track to better our situation in time for the busy season. We’re seeing a few of you trickle back into town […]
Can you taste it?
I can. Or at least I can smell it, and it smells amazing.
In front of the curtain
You’ve already seen more behind the curtain than you care to, I reckon.
Whittling
Or being whittled, anyway.
To sum it up, he/she/they/them/it isn’t/aren’t working.
But we are.
I’ll tell you next week.
Assuming I’m able.
Don’t worry, there’s plenty of pizza and pasta.
Still rippling.
You know, like an eel leaves when it comes to the surface.
Where’s the hidden camera?
What exactly is your game, mister?