Dear reader, you know how when you have an arch nemesis you study him closely for signs of weakness? You look for the element of surprise?
Well, Heat never saw this coming.
Angry fries: jalapenos, spicy bulgogi, and kimchi tossed together with sweet potato fries and topped with an evil eye of a fried egg. That's more mojo than Heat could muster even if he traded in his turtleneck for a tight pair of Wranglers.
It's from a place called Buldogis, dear reader, the answer to prayer for anyone who's spent his life loving Korean food and hot dogs and wishing like crazy he didn't have to choose between the two.
We went there last night to celebrate a friend's birthday. It was fun...I can't say the food was exactly my cup of tea, but that's because I've never worshipped at the altar of hot dogs. You know? They kind of gross me out. Unless you go to Germany, where they serve a version that is poetry in the shape of a sausage.
It really is hot, though. I can't tell if it's unbearably hot or if I've merely capitulated to the psychological warfare Heat inflicts upon my brain.
Probably both. Or maybe just the latter. Like, if Heat commanded me to recite his manifesto I'd probably do it with a blank stare, wincing only slightly at the part that makes fun of Canadians.
At any rate, we are doing lots of swimming.
And playing indoors.
And as it so happens, Heat has not managed to fully zap my spirits, because I'm still making the girls practice.
Franchement, it would take more than a mere molten sun to make me surrender that ground.