I’m still sick, so I hope you’ll forgive me for another brief blog post. I feel like wet concrete has been poured into my sinuses.
When I was a kid, my cousin would often come visit from Italy during the summer. He and his parents (and later, when they existed, his siblings, too) would stay with my grandparents in their tiny little bungalow (translation: non-air-conditioned house) not far from Cocoa Beach, Florida.
Soon after their arrival, I would drag a suitcase full of clothing over to my grandparent’s and spend much of the summer there. On sunny days, my cousin and I ate junk food and went to the beach. When it rained, we’d eat junk food and play Monopoly.
He now owns a gelato shop and I eat or write about cake on an almost daily basis. I’m not saying that those two things are necessarily related to the amount of sugar we consumed as kids, but … well, it’s interesting, isn’t it?