Some random Iceland-related thoughts I've been mulling lately
There is a bag of Doritos in the pantry. The flavor is "Cool American".
The owner of this farm and her 86-yr-old mother live in the basement of the farm and their flat smells a bit like greasy boiled mutton. As a result, I think we are starting to smell a bit like greasy, boiled mutton.
It feels decadent to go to bed in broad daylight.
Lava rocks hurt like hell when you fall on them.
I have yet to meet an Icelander who does not make art. I think this is a beautiful thing.
While I get that it's nature out here and shit happens, I still want to shoot the black-headed gull that has picked off the sweet tiny ducklings in the lake behind my house. Do I really need to witness every death?
Thanks to a 4-yr-old's mispronouncement, we coined a new cocktail: brandy, Ginger ale and muddled lime and basil makes a Fizzer.
The Farmhouse wife gig has been fun, but man, when I get home, I am going to kiss my high heels and eat sushi for a week straight.