The weather was perfect. Lunch at Sophie's Cuban Cuisine was lip-smackin', finger-lickin' good: tender roast pork, slightly crispy on the outside maduros, and a I-don't-know-what-it's-called-but-it's-addictive green sauce. Dessert was a sublime experience: oh-so-smooooth frozen custard from Shake Shack.
Ahh. All was right in my world.
My partners in crime and I were sitting on a park bench, seconds away from a stupefied trance that can only be induced by gluttony when suddenly...
Me: "I should have a blog!"
My friends, trying not to look horrified at the thought: "Uh, sure."
Me, wild-eyed and spittle forming at the corner of my mouth: "Yeah, yeah. I could write about today's lunch! And about that line! (Pointing maniacally.) Look at that line! Only in NYC will we stand in line for 40 minutes to a get a burger! And I can write about the 5 hours I had to stand in line for my iPhone! We stand in line for everything! I can write about that!"
My friends, who are now thinking, "What was in that green sauce?": "Um, yeah. It would be great!"
Of course, back at work few minutes later, my sanity returned, and I mumbled to myself (I do this all the time), "Of course, I can't blog. I'm not a writer. I'll probably get hate mail all the time. I'm a neurotically private person - I don't usually do things like this. Besides, I'll commit some blogger faux pas and be banned forever by some blogging etiquette committee. I don't know anything about html, php, gif, or whatever all those symbols are!"
Well, since you're reading this, you know how effective this talk was with myself. I don't know anything about blogging, but I know I'm having a ball already. I'll figure things out as I go. And I promise, I won't write about standing in lines (well, maybe once...or twice). I will write about my gastronomic experiences and post recipes I've tested.
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