Dear diary, where I been?

No where much.  Where the weak are eaten, mostly, and a quick trip to DC.  Lota been to Sundance and back.  Been working working working.  Floundered in the midst of a half dozen books and finally pulled myself out by the bootstraps of The Sense of an Ending and Flaubert's Parrot.  Have been enjoying some home made vermouth a la Yvette can Boven and been slicing the bresaola.  Almost bought an electric slicer but settled instead on the big honkin' Victrinox Forschner hollow edged knife.  And I have a pork belly working, too.  Burned last year's seasonal stalks and saw that the bulbs and mint and a few other early-risers are saying hello.  Saw in the times today that I'm three years younger than Cindy Sherman.