10.03 am: The largest mug of warm milk and honey in the world, or at least the house. The honey is from my dad’s friend, who harvested it from his apiary in upstate New York. I drink it while sitting on the kitchen floor, with the dog’s head in my lap.
4.11 pm: What was supposed to be an apple, but turns out to be only half, since Keith keeps on eating slices of it even though he says he’s not hungry.
8.05 – 9.07 pm: Dinner of mixed greens with a balsamic-herb vinaigrette, cucumbers, steamed white rice and grilled flank steak; my mother had marinated the meat in a mixture of soy sauce, Tabasco sauce, garlic, pepper and Sherry, and I eat three pieces. Afterwards, have a mango Whole Fruit popsicle, which I smuggle out of the freezer without the dog noticing, though my dad blows our cover by feeding him pieces under the table. Beg a bite of apple tart from Keith, then two Roman Egg Stella D’oro cookies with my mom before we pick the leaves off of three bunches of parsley for fattoush and boereg and watch Dancing with the Stars. We both think Mýa will win, but I’m rooting for Kelly.