Bloody brilliant day, I'd say.
Kicked it off with an exotic pie cooked in a fry pan.
Broccoli, peanuts, peanut butter, green peppers, coconut, chickpeas and lentils on a flour-butter-water pie crust. Smells like India. And I learned how to use a rolling pin. (!)
Then Faulkner showed me this:
Then we found a tennis ball.
Then we walked to Ideal Market.
It took us two hours.
I don't know what it was.
The cumin in the dinner maybe?
Lady Gaga's phone on her head?
The unorthodoxy of playing catch on Broadway?
Well, maybe it was all three? But before I know it, we'd stole a lime and were doing parkour off trees and benches. We did a sick gnar rad jump off a fire hydrant. Faulkner cleared the tennis ball through the railings on both sides of a bridge. It was Awesome. We played in the sand by the creek for forty seconds and I almost twisted my ankle! Then we played some baseball with a stick I found by the creek. We made a guy on a bike smile. I think it was my excellent batting posture. Then we realized we were supposed to be at Sabina's in ten minutes so we ran up the stoner hill of death, skipped the stairs, grabbed our blender and our crate full of cooking goods.
I think this is when we started talking in our best British accents. Loudly. Luckily it was dark, but we still got looks from dog walkers and other civilians. Apparently we weren't that believable. Probably because all I did was say bloody everyother word. Sometimes there was an Australian twang, or a Southern hiccup....but it lasted us all the way to the local food house utopia where the oranges are local and the quinoa is in jars and there's a compost bucket in the pantry....(ie. Rhianna and Sabina and Taylor and Bryant's house).
Faulkner made more dark chocolate chili lime cookies with Sabina while I did homework. They're perfect cookies because you don't need more than one. Then we made banana ice cream again but we didn't freeze it long enough so it kind of just tasted like baby food but we put it in a communal bowl with six spoons so it was fun. We walked home and it was cold, "a bit nippy" our British personas would say. F convinced me it was midnight but I got home and it wasn't even eleven. (?)
I'm sorry to all the good people on 10th street that didn't mind us yelling in pathetic accents and taking a break on their yard and we looked like we were drunk even though we weren't and it was a Monday night and the only illegal thing we did was steal a seventy cent lime because we HATE Whole Foods. I mean not really. But we work at Alfalfa's so we gots to be loyal. Well well cheerio mates!