Unpicked, Day eight.
Before I moved to L.A. I didn’t know a thing about the Chinese New Year. Now I think I will forever associate February with dumplings and pot-stickers. (And those little red envelopes that could be stuffed with cash.) On day eight, as I arrived at my third Chinese New Year party in one week, the homemade dumplings were insistent little camera-hogs. We ate them, merrily.
Happy Year of the Rat. I’m pretty certain Baltimore has the biggest in the world. I love that town, but their rats are as big as cats.