Monday, May 9, 2011

Farewell Des Moines.

I don't know how to use a cast-iron skillet. Let's just get that out there.

However, that doesn't stop me from trying. It's just every time I use one our entire apartment fills with smoke. I suspect it has something to do with not using the right oil to "season" the pan. At least that's what Mr. D says.

But I don't care. I like the way the light shines through the smoke. It looks mysterious and magical, like some miracle just occurred outside our window.

Speaking of our windows, I'm going to miss those suckers—even if they are 100 years old and would break if you leaned on them. I think Walter might miss them more though. He loves to sit on the ledge and watch the birds and squirrels on the nearby tree.

I'm a little worried about how he'll transition to life in the south. Just a little. I'm sure he'll get over it.

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