« The Family that Arguidos Together ... | Main | Run, Formula Filmmaking, Run »


A few hours ago, I went upstairs to the quote-unquote-writer's-loft and dug up my copy of The South Beach Diet. A certain someone has been bending my ear (and his keyboard) about it for a couple weeks now and I'm feeling puffy.

A few minutes ago, I realized I was hungry and went to look for said book, as I can't remember where I put it a few hours ago. Attention Deficit Disorder does take its toll. As I went into the kitchen I saw a loaf of sourdough bread just begging to be sliced and toasted.

It's delicious.

I guess I'm not starting South Beach today, not that I've found the book yet.

But later on, when the carbs make me sleepy, I can have a lovely coffee from my newly acquired Nespresso machine.

mmm, caffeine

The selling point was the nifty accessory that froths the milk. It's a separate metal pitcher that sits on an electric base, much like a kettle, and will either heat or froth milk, depending on the doohickey you put on the bottom.

(And really, who doesn't like a doohickey on the bottom?)

The accessory is called an Aeroccino, which sounds an awful lot like a Harry Potter spell. Wave your wand, say "aeroccino" with a determined look on your face, and *poof*, you've got a little froth to make a macchiato.

Which would go very nicely with a slice of cake.

What do you mean there's no cake on South Beach?