Yesterday and today I kept thinking about the things I would write when next I got my hands on a computer. Unfortunately, now that I have my chance, I'm illin'. So I won't push myself too hard to write the things I had aspired to write today. I feel bad because I don't know if the thoughts will pass unrecorded into the recesses of memory.
Someone at Church today said that I needed to get more sleep. I thought perhaps he had misinterpreted my yawning as a sign that I was tired. Maybe he was right, though. I think I'll turn in early tonite. Meanwhile I'm having wine in my hot tea, and I've also taken my usual antihistamine early.
[Among other things] I had wanted to eulogize my late cat, Pumpkin. I may yet; but as of now I have not even found his pictures and I am too tired to look for them anymore, let alone write an euolgy. He was a great cat.
Thursday, sick in bed (possibly with the beginnings of what I suffer now,) I colored in a childrens' coloring book. Now, that is therapeutic.
Saturday, August 30, 2008
Friday, August 29, 2008
housework and a picture
I'm having a housework day today.
And why should I procrastinate about vacuuming when I have a brand new, sweet vacuum cleaner that only wants to help me?
Totally unrelated: Above is a picture of me being signed by local author Sarah Katherine Lewis at a book signing. Although I regret having inspired sailors to unholy lust, I did dance the pole on March 9th and 10th 1989 as Indigo. Sarah wrote (in anticipation of next March:) "Happy 20th Anniversary, INDIGO! Pole dance on, sista! -- [Heart] Sarah"
Thursday, August 28, 2008
Alligator Lizards in the Air
I just learned "Ventura Highway" on my guitar and I got to thinking, when was the last time anybody saw an alligator lizard in the air? I used to see these little creatures that looked a little like alligators, a little like lizards, maybe a centimeter long if that, who landed on my arm or maybe somewhere else toward the back of the car as my family rode along in the '70's in Maryland. Well, that wasn't anywhere near Ventura Highway, so I looked up "alligator lizard" to see what America may have been referring to, if it could possibly be the same animal. Well, nothing in Wikipedia under "alligator lizard" resembled my creatures. And when was the last time I saw one of the latter anyway? I hate to think they're gone, but I can't remember seeing one since the '70's. Anyone from Maryland or nearby? When did you last see one of my itty bitty critters?
On the bus yesterday I mentioned this to a woman from Tennessee who used to play with june bugs, tying strings to them for a living fireworks effect. I forgot -- did she say they had vanished? Or does she just not see them anymore since she's come out west?
On the bus yesterday I mentioned this to a woman from Tennessee who used to play with june bugs, tying strings to them for a living fireworks effect. I forgot -- did she say they had vanished? Or does she just not see them anymore since she's come out west?
Tuesday, August 19, 2008
Local Madness, Attitude
Not sure where to start here! Here I sit in the living room I share with Russ. His music is too loud and I can't do anything about it except hope that he will relent soon and turn it down.
Meanwhile, I persist in writing because I have a lot to express tonight. [Text edited out at future date for fear that someone might misunderstand. For the record, I think that profiling of any kind in the context of employment is wrong. You get a whole spectrum of attributes in any sizable group, modal characteristics and "risk factors" notwithstanding.]
[More edits follow.] Have you ever encountered foreigners who came to the United States with the attitude that Western culture is so shallow and foolish that they can familiarize themselves with it in a minute and completely debunk it in the next ten? In actual fact they're ill equipped to understand our culture, about as ill equipped as we are to understand theirs. Just realizing that would win an Eastern man points with me. (I have been fortunate to date and socialize with Eastern men who approach our culture with a more respectful attitude, and I apologize for having forgotten about them a few days ago when I wrote in the original post, "Why have I never known an Eastern male to approach our culture with that level of humility? After all, every group has its spread, its modal and non-modal attitudes. I want to hear from the Eastern male who can admit that he's at a loss when it comes to Western culture and has no pretensions of being able to tell us how to "fix" it. -- You're out there, aren't you?")
Let me interrupt myself at this point, while I try to get a mental grasp on the ignorant, all-over-the-map filibuster I endured today. Let me just interrupt myself for twenty seconds to say that this loud music is a real bother. I know Russ needs it, but it's still hard to take.
This fellow I worked with today tried to put over that -- ah, where do I *start* ??? That Western so-called chastity is insincere, that kissing is more sexually intimate than coitus (as evidenced by the fact that harlots refuse to kiss,) that any contact between the sexes (courtship, anyone?) might as well be coitus, and that Catholic Churchgoers are the same kind of blind followers that enable people like Hitler, Hussein, Bush and Sharon (some of his actual examples) to promulgate their abuses. Where oh where do I start?
You know, when someone rants some fallacious card house "argument" to the effect of all of the above without allowing any discussion, it's a lot like an assault. And just like the (sexual) assailant in the movie who adds insult to injury ("How was I?") this guy had his parting blow: "The truth is better even if it's bitter." Was he intoning it patronizingly? Probably. But it's patronizing either way. Not only was his logic terrible; his whole argument betrayed ignorance straight from the foundation. Those who can see through his ignorance and illogic are accused of an unwillingness to accept an unwelcome conclusion. "The truth is better even if it's bitter." I wouldn't let him kid himself that he was being Socratic. Socrates, I pointed out, used the dialectic, exposing his arguments to outside examination. By contrast this guy's onslaught was -- what? -- a mon-electic? I told him straight out that I wasn't impressed. But I'm getting ahead of myself. (Can you blame me? I'm overwhelmed with this. WHERE do I START ????????) By the way, I might as well tell you that Mr. Filibuster is none other than my editorial client, John.
Well, the thing about religious believers being blind followers is just equivocation, or at least a very bad assumption. To his mind, people believe because they were "forced" to believe, not because they made an informed decision. He said as much. He said that if I had been born in a certain place I would have a certain religion. He said that my parents forced me to be Catholic. Now, the first assertion is arguable. I mean, if I come from a place where everybody believes a certain thing, that will have a certain influence on me. But that's far from a certainty. After all, I did go through the typical religious questioning mode of youth. Most people I know did. As for the second assertion, Catholicism doesn't want people who are forced into the Church. They want people who make a sincere profession of faith. It might also surprise him to learn that many ethnic Jews forsake the Jewish faith, which I think is unfortunate, but it shows that people are making their own decisions. This was only one of a number of very bad assumptions John made as he ripped inconsiderately through his rant, wise in his own conceit.
Now let me tackle his notions of traditional Western sexual mores. By this I do mean traditional. I mean the Catholic tradition whereby my grandparents wed in their virginity after an innocent, loving courtship. (I never asked them, but let's assume that's what they did. In any event, this is the tradition whereof John spoke.) Having no cultural foundation for the concept of romance in his own upbringing, he doesn't understand the function of courtship. To him it is just sexual intimacy that pretends that it is not sexual intimacy. A man and a woman in the same room, a man and a woman sharing what we would consider an innocent kiss -- as far as he's concerned, they might as well go all the way. He makes two very silly points about this: First, how can a man know for sure that his intended is a virgin if she has shared a room or a kiss with a man? Second, if a kiss is not more sexually intimate than coitus, why then do harlots refuse a kiss?
My turn! Catholicism regards fornication as a sin, not an eternal blemish of dishonor. If a Catholic fornicates, he or she goes to confession and does penance. And that's the end of it. If for whatever reason one's fiancee deems it of utmost importance to ascertain that his intended is a virgin, he can always ask. What reassurance does he have of her truthfulness? Hopefully the romance and courtship were enough to enable two people to trust one another. If not, the couple has big problems. But John wouldn't know this, because he doesn't know the concepts of romance and courtship. Fair enough if he acknowledges his ignorance, but he doesn't.
Moving along, kissing is perhaps more intimate than coitus (I wouldn't know firsthand, being a virgin myself.) But it's not more *sexually* intimate; it's more *romantically* intimate. The harlot who refuses a kiss is saying, "This isn't love; it's only sex." It sails right over John's head. Love may be in his vocabulary, but romance is apparently foreign to him.
Interestingly, when it comes to marriage, John believes in temporary contracts of matrimony (practiced in Islam, he says.) He also believes the old line about "try before you buy" when it comes to permanent matrimony (a la Catholicism.) It's just another instance of equivocating sex with love. Holy matrimony is to be based on love, not sex. Of secondary concern, sexual "compatibility" or mechanics can be worked out later, with love and patience.
What's really disappointing here is how many Westerners of all ages likewise value sex and forget love, insisting that sexual intimacy needs to be investigated firsthand prior to any agreements being signed. I may not know sex, but at least I know love. I know what that feels like. I know what motivates romance. People who think it's all about sex think I'm missing out, but the irony is that they're the real losers; because they have never known a love in whose light their physical pleasures pale by comparison.
By the way, Russ has turned down the volume on the stereo, and has fallen asleep. He read some of the epistle from which John read aloud today, and advised me not to keep company with him. He also said that John was no longer welcomed in the apartment. This is not because Russ agrees or disagrees, but because he finds the whole diatribe to be unacceptably sexually aggressive. He feels that my addressing it on an academic level misses the mark in a way. What can I say? I think John came to America to put us to rights in a number of ways. That is why he is writing a book on our economy, and that is why I work for him. Should I abandon the project? I've decided to simply get the (editing) job done, promoting cultural understanding on an interpersonal level.
Meanwhile, I persist in writing because I have a lot to express tonight. [Text edited out at future date for fear that someone might misunderstand. For the record, I think that profiling of any kind in the context of employment is wrong. You get a whole spectrum of attributes in any sizable group, modal characteristics and "risk factors" notwithstanding.]
[More edits follow.] Have you ever encountered foreigners who came to the United States with the attitude that Western culture is so shallow and foolish that they can familiarize themselves with it in a minute and completely debunk it in the next ten? In actual fact they're ill equipped to understand our culture, about as ill equipped as we are to understand theirs. Just realizing that would win an Eastern man points with me. (I have been fortunate to date and socialize with Eastern men who approach our culture with a more respectful attitude, and I apologize for having forgotten about them a few days ago when I wrote in the original post, "Why have I never known an Eastern male to approach our culture with that level of humility? After all, every group has its spread, its modal and non-modal attitudes. I want to hear from the Eastern male who can admit that he's at a loss when it comes to Western culture and has no pretensions of being able to tell us how to "fix" it. -- You're out there, aren't you?")
Let me interrupt myself at this point, while I try to get a mental grasp on the ignorant, all-over-the-map filibuster I endured today. Let me just interrupt myself for twenty seconds to say that this loud music is a real bother. I know Russ needs it, but it's still hard to take.
This fellow I worked with today tried to put over that -- ah, where do I *start* ??? That Western so-called chastity is insincere, that kissing is more sexually intimate than coitus (as evidenced by the fact that harlots refuse to kiss,) that any contact between the sexes (courtship, anyone?) might as well be coitus, and that Catholic Churchgoers are the same kind of blind followers that enable people like Hitler, Hussein, Bush and Sharon (some of his actual examples) to promulgate their abuses. Where oh where do I start?
You know, when someone rants some fallacious card house "argument" to the effect of all of the above without allowing any discussion, it's a lot like an assault. And just like the (sexual) assailant in the movie who adds insult to injury ("How was I?") this guy had his parting blow: "The truth is better even if it's bitter." Was he intoning it patronizingly? Probably. But it's patronizing either way. Not only was his logic terrible; his whole argument betrayed ignorance straight from the foundation. Those who can see through his ignorance and illogic are accused of an unwillingness to accept an unwelcome conclusion. "The truth is better even if it's bitter." I wouldn't let him kid himself that he was being Socratic. Socrates, I pointed out, used the dialectic, exposing his arguments to outside examination. By contrast this guy's onslaught was -- what? -- a mon-electic? I told him straight out that I wasn't impressed. But I'm getting ahead of myself. (Can you blame me? I'm overwhelmed with this. WHERE do I START ????????) By the way, I might as well tell you that Mr. Filibuster is none other than my editorial client, John.
Well, the thing about religious believers being blind followers is just equivocation, or at least a very bad assumption. To his mind, people believe because they were "forced" to believe, not because they made an informed decision. He said as much. He said that if I had been born in a certain place I would have a certain religion. He said that my parents forced me to be Catholic. Now, the first assertion is arguable. I mean, if I come from a place where everybody believes a certain thing, that will have a certain influence on me. But that's far from a certainty. After all, I did go through the typical religious questioning mode of youth. Most people I know did. As for the second assertion, Catholicism doesn't want people who are forced into the Church. They want people who make a sincere profession of faith. It might also surprise him to learn that many ethnic Jews forsake the Jewish faith, which I think is unfortunate, but it shows that people are making their own decisions. This was only one of a number of very bad assumptions John made as he ripped inconsiderately through his rant, wise in his own conceit.
Now let me tackle his notions of traditional Western sexual mores. By this I do mean traditional. I mean the Catholic tradition whereby my grandparents wed in their virginity after an innocent, loving courtship. (I never asked them, but let's assume that's what they did. In any event, this is the tradition whereof John spoke.) Having no cultural foundation for the concept of romance in his own upbringing, he doesn't understand the function of courtship. To him it is just sexual intimacy that pretends that it is not sexual intimacy. A man and a woman in the same room, a man and a woman sharing what we would consider an innocent kiss -- as far as he's concerned, they might as well go all the way. He makes two very silly points about this: First, how can a man know for sure that his intended is a virgin if she has shared a room or a kiss with a man? Second, if a kiss is not more sexually intimate than coitus, why then do harlots refuse a kiss?
My turn! Catholicism regards fornication as a sin, not an eternal blemish of dishonor. If a Catholic fornicates, he or she goes to confession and does penance. And that's the end of it. If for whatever reason one's fiancee deems it of utmost importance to ascertain that his intended is a virgin, he can always ask. What reassurance does he have of her truthfulness? Hopefully the romance and courtship were enough to enable two people to trust one another. If not, the couple has big problems. But John wouldn't know this, because he doesn't know the concepts of romance and courtship. Fair enough if he acknowledges his ignorance, but he doesn't.
Moving along, kissing is perhaps more intimate than coitus (I wouldn't know firsthand, being a virgin myself.) But it's not more *sexually* intimate; it's more *romantically* intimate. The harlot who refuses a kiss is saying, "This isn't love; it's only sex." It sails right over John's head. Love may be in his vocabulary, but romance is apparently foreign to him.
Interestingly, when it comes to marriage, John believes in temporary contracts of matrimony (practiced in Islam, he says.) He also believes the old line about "try before you buy" when it comes to permanent matrimony (a la Catholicism.) It's just another instance of equivocating sex with love. Holy matrimony is to be based on love, not sex. Of secondary concern, sexual "compatibility" or mechanics can be worked out later, with love and patience.
What's really disappointing here is how many Westerners of all ages likewise value sex and forget love, insisting that sexual intimacy needs to be investigated firsthand prior to any agreements being signed. I may not know sex, but at least I know love. I know what that feels like. I know what motivates romance. People who think it's all about sex think I'm missing out, but the irony is that they're the real losers; because they have never known a love in whose light their physical pleasures pale by comparison.
By the way, Russ has turned down the volume on the stereo, and has fallen asleep. He read some of the epistle from which John read aloud today, and advised me not to keep company with him. He also said that John was no longer welcomed in the apartment. This is not because Russ agrees or disagrees, but because he finds the whole diatribe to be unacceptably sexually aggressive. He feels that my addressing it on an academic level misses the mark in a way. What can I say? I think John came to America to put us to rights in a number of ways. That is why he is writing a book on our economy, and that is why I work for him. Should I abandon the project? I've decided to simply get the (editing) job done, promoting cultural understanding on an interpersonal level.
Friday, August 15, 2008
Getting My Head Together
Heat sick two days in a row! I didn't even know I was susceptible. I realize now that I must have experienced this in years past without associating it with heat exposure. All it took was a jaunt to the store in midday heat to make me ill. Well, the coffee and herbs might also have contributed.
What bothers me most about this malady is feeling like I want to be productive and not having the full use of my brain. It's like my brain is afraid it'll overheat if it does anything.
Now that night has fallen I should be OK, and blogging is an ideal way to get my mind working again.
Tourist season is flying by. Right now I have a work assignment, but if I didn't I'd be out there busking the docks with my guitar, or at least preparing my act. I hope I get a chance to do this. Here is my first take on a song list*:
Aubrey (Bread)
Hold Me Tight (The Beatles)
Stairway to Heaven (Zeplin)
You've Got Your Troubles (Jay and the Americans?)
Mamma Mia (Abba)
I Can't Get Started (Bunny Berrigan)
Roses... in Picotee (old standard)
Horse with No Name (America)
Baby Ima Want You (Bread)
I Think I Love You (The Partridge Family)
[some stuff by the Ramones that I'm not real familiar with yet]
Rose Garden (Lynn Anderson)
Killing Me Softly (Roberta Flack)
[some stuff by Melanie that I know by heart]
Mystifyingly Glad/ ... Dyingly Sad (artist unknown)
Gimme Some Kind Of Sign (artist unknown)
... I never did finish that list. Obviously it needs massaging and a call to ASCAP.
Nor have I been out busking yet, mostly because I've been unnecessarily occupied. Working with a client who doesn't speak much English is an invitation to errors that waste time. Worse, this particular client either doesn't have a good understanding of opportunity cost or doesn't figure me for someone who has anything important to do besides the business we have together. It could be a misread on him, but for now I'm going with my intuition. Tentatively. It's not like you can discuss every little disgruntlement through a language barrier. Some things you gotta just vent and let go. Right? Anyway, my intuition is pretty well supported by things he has said that really don't bear repeating here.
What bothers me most about this malady is feeling like I want to be productive and not having the full use of my brain. It's like my brain is afraid it'll overheat if it does anything.
Now that night has fallen I should be OK, and blogging is an ideal way to get my mind working again.
Tourist season is flying by. Right now I have a work assignment, but if I didn't I'd be out there busking the docks with my guitar, or at least preparing my act. I hope I get a chance to do this. Here is my first take on a song list*:
Aubrey (Bread)
Hold Me Tight (The Beatles)
Stairway to Heaven (Zeplin)
You've Got Your Troubles (Jay and the Americans?)
Mamma Mia (Abba)
I Can't Get Started (Bunny Berrigan)
Roses... in Picotee (old standard)
Horse with No Name (America)
Baby Ima Want You (Bread)
I Think I Love You (The Partridge Family)
[some stuff by the Ramones that I'm not real familiar with yet]
Rose Garden (Lynn Anderson)
Killing Me Softly (Roberta Flack)
[some stuff by Melanie that I know by heart]
Mystifyingly Glad/ ... Dyingly Sad (artist unknown)
Gimme Some Kind Of Sign (artist unknown)
... I never did finish that list. Obviously it needs massaging and a call to ASCAP.
Nor have I been out busking yet, mostly because I've been unnecessarily occupied. Working with a client who doesn't speak much English is an invitation to errors that waste time. Worse, this particular client either doesn't have a good understanding of opportunity cost or doesn't figure me for someone who has anything important to do besides the business we have together. It could be a misread on him, but for now I'm going with my intuition. Tentatively. It's not like you can discuss every little disgruntlement through a language barrier. Some things you gotta just vent and let go. Right? Anyway, my intuition is pretty well supported by things he has said that really don't bear repeating here.
Tuesday, August 12, 2008
Out of the Prayer Closet?
I just wrote down some "talking points" for my prayers. When I opened Blogger just now, it was with the idea of posting them. But then I thought, wouldn't God want me to keep that between us? Maybe. What do you think?
Friday, August 8, 2008
What Would Jesus Say?
Hooray! Check this out!
http://www.cracked.com/blog/2008/08/07/5-scientific-theories-head-explode/
...Then look for Kitty Lane's comment on August 8th at 1:59 PM (easy to find; filed chronologically.)
http://www.cracked.com/blog/2008/08/07/5-scientific-theories-head-explode/
...Then look for Kitty Lane's comment on August 8th at 1:59 PM (easy to find; filed chronologically.)
Thursday, August 7, 2008
So Many Thoughts, So Little Time II (continued from last post)
I wrote to my friend in South Carolina: My father used to
say that my mother was afraid of losing her looks. Well, she never
did. But now I'm afraid of losing my looks. I'm thinking, I need to
develop emotional fortitude, healthy thoughts and wisdom as a safe
landing surface in case I don't end up as lucky as Mom.
I wrote to my Mother: I noticed with surprise how emotionally stable I was going into my period this time around. I'm like, "Wow, I'm bleeding. But I don't
remember suffering." Even waiting at a bus stop for most of an hour
yesterday I marvelled at how good I felt and realized how fortunate I
was to be stranded in a good mood instead of a bad one.
I wrote to a local friend: [edited for blog] Apparently, most of my old friends from the East don't read my blog at all, which is, I admit, understandable. Even this guy here in Seattle [identifying text omitted] doesn't seem to read it. He sends me these really short messages saying, "how are you doing?" or "What have you been up to?" or some such... And yet, even this is kind of understandable. I mean, I can't promise my blog will always be good. (You have to give yourself permission to be up and down.) And I haven't totally caught up with everybody else's blogs. (At least I read them, though.)
But nobody wants to be this lonely, so I've begun to hatch a plan. It will bear some explanation, but I might as well start trying to articulate it...
Well, to start with, you know the feeling you get when you're a little tyke (4,5,6,7 years old) and you just wrote a story (or created something personally expressive.) You want some grownup to read it, so you pester them until they do. But just when they're about to read it you realize that your creation is in trouble -- somebody's about to read it just because you wouldn't take no for an answer. Somebody is not going to appreciate your creation. And worse, this unworthy audience is going to see right through your urgency to have your story read, right through everything you have written, to a part of you that you no longer want to share with them. You start to feel sheepish about the whole thing and want to hide your precious story.
Well, grownups feel that way too, so I'm not going to give people the hard sell on my blog while I'm alive. It's statistically likely that somebody I know -- maybe even someone I know already today -- will survive me. And everybody gets a little bit popular at the time they die. So I'm getting my will together and asking the survivors among my friends to (a) share any actual money I might have with my family (sorry, not the house! that's for the neices;) and (b) read my blog. People will be curious about me at that moment. At that time it will not be a hard sell. It will not be too much to ask of anybody. I will not feel sheepish in an urn of ashes, like a child who just begged some grownup to read his story. I'm not even sure I feel sheepish about it just imagining it from the present time. So that is the way I will go.
say that my mother was afraid of losing her looks. Well, she never
did. But now I'm afraid of losing my looks. I'm thinking, I need to
develop emotional fortitude, healthy thoughts and wisdom as a safe
landing surface in case I don't end up as lucky as Mom.
I wrote to my Mother: I noticed with surprise how emotionally stable I was going into my period this time around. I'm like, "Wow, I'm bleeding. But I don't
remember suffering." Even waiting at a bus stop for most of an hour
yesterday I marvelled at how good I felt and realized how fortunate I
was to be stranded in a good mood instead of a bad one.
I wrote to a local friend: [edited for blog] Apparently, most of my old friends from the East don't read my blog at all, which is, I admit, understandable. Even this guy here in Seattle [identifying text omitted] doesn't seem to read it. He sends me these really short messages saying, "how are you doing?" or "What have you been up to?" or some such... And yet, even this is kind of understandable. I mean, I can't promise my blog will always be good. (You have to give yourself permission to be up and down.) And I haven't totally caught up with everybody else's blogs. (At least I read them, though.)
But nobody wants to be this lonely, so I've begun to hatch a plan. It will bear some explanation, but I might as well start trying to articulate it...
Well, to start with, you know the feeling you get when you're a little tyke (4,5,6,7 years old) and you just wrote a story (or created something personally expressive.) You want some grownup to read it, so you pester them until they do. But just when they're about to read it you realize that your creation is in trouble -- somebody's about to read it just because you wouldn't take no for an answer. Somebody is not going to appreciate your creation. And worse, this unworthy audience is going to see right through your urgency to have your story read, right through everything you have written, to a part of you that you no longer want to share with them. You start to feel sheepish about the whole thing and want to hide your precious story.
Well, grownups feel that way too, so I'm not going to give people the hard sell on my blog while I'm alive. It's statistically likely that somebody I know -- maybe even someone I know already today -- will survive me. And everybody gets a little bit popular at the time they die. So I'm getting my will together and asking the survivors among my friends to (a) share any actual money I might have with my family (sorry, not the house! that's for the neices;) and (b) read my blog. People will be curious about me at that moment. At that time it will not be a hard sell. It will not be too much to ask of anybody. I will not feel sheepish in an urn of ashes, like a child who just begged some grownup to read his story. I'm not even sure I feel sheepish about it just imagining it from the present time. So that is the way I will go.
Wednesday, August 6, 2008
So many thoughts, so little time
Well, I have successfully completed my data entry temporary assignment. (It ended a little early because they have a new staffer who took over my duties as well as the ones they had originally assigned to her.) As for my next gig I have two hot prospects (including an interview that has already been planned!) When John finds out I'm out of work again, he will want to see how far I got with his manuscript -- pretty far, actually, but it's still on paper. I should at least type it up, and I'd like to finish it up before he sees it.
Last night I treated myself to a gourmet meal at home. I thought about eating for nutrition, expedience and practicality, but when I saw that delicious meal coming together I just totally went for it. I thought, it's only me eating it; who cares? But then I thought, what if somebody really cares enough about me to read my blog? Wouldn't it be nice to make the meal really great so I can share the experience with that worthy individual?
So here is what I had: Roasted potatoes and sweet potatoes and steamed kale topped with organic cottage cheese and black grapes, plus a tomato and cheddar sandwich on multi-grain bread. The beverage was homemade lemonade. (Since I had already had a lot of protein that day, I didn't sweat the grams at this meal.) Write to me if you love it. I did it for both of us.
(To be continued, next post)
Last night I treated myself to a gourmet meal at home. I thought about eating for nutrition, expedience and practicality, but when I saw that delicious meal coming together I just totally went for it. I thought, it's only me eating it; who cares? But then I thought, what if somebody really cares enough about me to read my blog? Wouldn't it be nice to make the meal really great so I can share the experience with that worthy individual?
So here is what I had: Roasted potatoes and sweet potatoes and steamed kale topped with organic cottage cheese and black grapes, plus a tomato and cheddar sandwich on multi-grain bread. The beverage was homemade lemonade. (Since I had already had a lot of protein that day, I didn't sweat the grams at this meal.) Write to me if you love it. I did it for both of us.
(To be continued, next post)
The Word of the Day is Hilton
Checkidout!
http://www.care2.com/politics/paris-hilton-responds-mccain-obama.html
http://www.care2.com/politics/paris-hilton-responds-mccain-obama.html
Sunday, August 3, 2008
Back to Work
As you may have guessed from my long silence, one of my temp agencies has called me back in to work. I should be working from last Tuseday until about August 12th in data entry for a legal services company.
Of course I wanted to write things! I just walked 3 - 4 miles home from Church, so I have plenty of things on my mind. Like, I stopped at a bar on the way and played the piano. And I met lots of dogs in the park. And I had some thoughts about the economy and stuff.
But all of this will have to wait, wait, wait. Because I have paperwork to fill out and a curfew to meet so I can be early to work tomorrow and take care of stuff.
Of course I wanted to write things! I just walked 3 - 4 miles home from Church, so I have plenty of things on my mind. Like, I stopped at a bar on the way and played the piano. And I met lots of dogs in the park. And I had some thoughts about the economy and stuff.
But all of this will have to wait, wait, wait. Because I have paperwork to fill out and a curfew to meet so I can be early to work tomorrow and take care of stuff.
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