Let me preface this by saying that I may come back to this for more details at some other point. I left my notebook in the car and I’m damn tired. Upon arriving at my grandmother’s house, she already had my martini ingredients out. She’s a wonderful lady. I only ate two jars of olives there… well, maybe three. She made spaghetti for us, and although I requested she put some aside for me before she added the meat, she forgot. Then she told me to pick out the noodles away from...
