flickering lights.

Not much happening up in this bitch other than Mars (not a typo) coughing, snorting, and spitting constantly and me occasionally trying to caretake without contracting The Illness.

Illness or no, today boredom got the best of us. We ended up leaving our little neighborhood for the first time in 2010, heading down to Albert Cuyp for a little necessity shopping: winter hats, band-aids, etc. We were done by noon. And then the question arose: how to reward such practical industry (can you even use "industry" like this? Look it up and let me know)?

The answer involved stopping at a brand-new Maoz Falafel for lunch and: it was almost as good as I remember it.

I'm not actually complaining. Because on this subject I can sound like the kind of whiny, nitpicky criticus I would want to silence FOREVER. But I swear in this case my uncontainable criticism is all in the name of love.

Between 2001 and 2004 we ate a lot of Maoz. As in definitely more than 20 visits but less than 100, something like that. So when I tell you that they're not cutting their carrots and beets as irregularly small as they used to (I think they're not doing it by hand anymore), and that this prevents one from building the kind of densely spectacular falafels we used to excel at...it's only b/c I know what's possible when you have a variety of vegetable shapes at your disposal.


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