A dinner of onions

I have to admit, I get bored just writing about what happens in my life.  It just reminds me too much of Doogie Howser or some 12 year old girl confiding in her secret journal with a too-easily-broken lock.  The past few weeks have had sports day, quarter break, and the student talent show.  Each of those things have fun stories to go with it.  I won a medal for the staff relay, I bought some kind of bronze star globe with Farsi script, and heard a pretty decent cover of a Blur song.  If you're really interested, ask me.

But what I really like about the past few weeks is how settled I have felt living and working here.  Most of the things on my mind are not really blogworthy.  I am now accepting that I cannot get any white or yellow onions.  I will be dealing with students giggling as I mention the Abrahamic covenant (look it up if you don't know what I'm talking about).  I'm okay with that.  Seniors will think they are God's gift to the earth and make up privileges as they see fit.  Yup.

Does anybody besides me really care about the color of onions?  No, probably not.  So I won't write too much about it.  However, if anyone cares, I do make a mean French-style onion soup (no crouton or broiled Provolone).  Add a few globules of yak cheese and that's a dinner, buddy!

A dinner of onions.  Besides pretentious book club books, what else should I write about?