In the name of Allah, most Gracious, most Merciful.
Rain, rain, rain. It rained all day Wednesday starting 5am, and it's still raining right now, Wednesday at 7pm as I start this letter. So I couldn't blog Wednesday's blog until the next day. Please forgive me. Do know that I love you, and that I have made a commitment to marry you, and I intend to keep it. InshaAllah.
Meanwhile, I have been quite busy harvesting cashews. I swear, they're ripening all at the same time. I swear they ripen as I pick them. The ripe cashew (not the nut) has the consistency of memory foam, but you can't allow the fruit to be bruised. Like if it fell from the tree, and hit the ground. Then the consistency will turn to like a wet sponge, which is difficult and undesirable to eat, and to work with. I keep the fruit in the cooler until I use or distribute it, otherwise it will melt. Cashew flesh is slightly bitter, but if you remove the bitterness with salt, then it becomes sweet. Interesting, huh? But I wouldn't want to try drinking cashews that have been put through the juicer.
Say, Julia! It suddenly occurred to that by now you must be, mashaAllah, in that group of women who have achieved powerful influence, as well as possessing great beauty. I'm not trying to kiss your butt my Queen, beautiful as it is. I want to remind you that you are on God's side. Don't be a crime boss.
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