Archives for January 2005

20-17, in overtime.
Yeah, baby.

I want a iPod shuffle so bad I can’t stand it. I don’t even have a reg’lar iPod, don’t really see the need, but this is small and cheap, and I could run with it, and it would be PSYCHIC. At least I hope it would be. (It doesn’t hit Apple stores until the end of the month. Don’t ask me how I know.)

I ordered yarn. A mess of it. I’m too ashamed to talk about it. More when I’m strong again.

So this is what I remember of what Kira made for me and her wife Rachel the other night. Bhindi masala, which is lovely stir-fried crunchy okra with onions and maybe garlic, mustard seeds, and other spices which I shall not try to remember, for I shall fail. She also (I do have a point here) made us potatoes with peas and lots of Indian spices, and this incredible rice with almonds, cranberries and raisins. Everything worked together. Every flavor supported the next.

I tried to duplicate that two nights ago. Yes, I did. And all shall be impressed when I say that I made a three course meal, just for me. I made: Tater tots, followed by some lovely chicken nuggets. I had ketchup, too. And salt, I believe. And a V8 for health. And then, to top it off? I made peach jello. It is, you know, the very pinnacle of class (say: closs)  to realize that you own a tin of fruit that has made perhaps three moves with you, and that it will go perfectly in that peach jello.

Someone told me that it was the kind of meal with which I should have bought my pint of milk and gone to my hiding place on the playground where the bullies wouldn’t find me. I, however, prefer to think of it as truck-stop food, diesels rumbling outside, the waitress calling me "kiddo" and offering me apple pie while she scratches her left ear with her pen.

Before you worry, I do have a salad at least once a week to stave off the scurvy. And I take vitamins. Yep. Health. It’s hard work.

Happy weekend, all. Knit! Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do (which means you can holler at the sliver of the moon, but for god’s sake don’t think about the [silk] yarn you just ordered).

This is an example of how my brain [doesn’t] work: Yesterday I decided
to test the water pressure in my shower (I never use it — it’s never
had enough pressure to warrant use — I just bathe instead), to see if
the plumber, when fixing the leak, had also helped me out in that
arena. I turned the water on. Yes, it’s a little better. I turned it
off.

I turned around, did several things in the bathroom, just tidying up, and
then looked at the wall next to the shower. There was WATER running
down it, just like the water that’s been running down my windows on the
inside lately from condensation. This was TERRIBLE. I’d get mold! The
walls would crumble! The floors would dissolve! The paint would run!

It seriously took me two minutes of panicked wiping down of the walls to remember I’d turned the shower on. Stunning, really.

In other news, some links for y’all.

Make a womb! Send it to Washington! Support Roe v. Wade! (How many exclamation points can I fit into this post? Watch and see!) Seriously. How great and timely is this? Anyone in?

Dating guidelines from the Rabbit.

And every new baby needs one of these. Really!

https://rachaelherron.com/this_is_an_exam/

I wrote last night at work, yes. But you know when I said I was going to write yesterday afternoon? I didn’t. Know why? Because I had another cup of coffee, and leaned over, and fell asleep on the couch. Only woke two hours later when the phone rang. I didn’t make it to the phone on time, but I made it to the bed, which is near the phone, so I fell asleep again. I slept for three and a half hours yesterday afternoon.

Then today, after working last night, I slept nine hours. I only woke up because I was dreaming of Maggi’s cats, and one was climbing the balcony, and I woke myself by laughing too hard.

This is unlike me. I keep checking my forehead. Am I running a fever? Nope. Do I feel fine? Yep, feel great.

I do not nap. I’m horrible at it. I’m also pretty durn bad at sleeping, period. So this is odd. Lala thinks that her mind-control is starting to work, which might be true, since the girl’s the biggest sleeper I’ve ever known. You could pretty much set up a ten-piece band in her room and she’d sleep through the music. Unless there was a saxophone. That might piss her off enough to wake up.

It’s sunny! The first real sun in a week. I’m going running, and then I’m going to write to make up for yesterday’s lost words. Unless I conk out again. (I do sometimes write in my dreams, and I write incredible words, sentences that sing with beauty and intelligence and compassion. Then I do the Is-This-A-Dream test by re-reading what I wrote, and it’s NEVER the same, and I think, crap. Another writing dream. They beat waitressing dreams, though, hands down. I HATE waitressing dreams. Never enough milk, and you haven’t even greeted six tables of expectant faces….. See why I have problems sleeping?)

You deserve a coupla photos, don’tcha? I have no new ones, so here’re two from Hawaii.

A sunset (that thing floating out in the water is a surfer):

And these people, who were watching the same sunset:

I love that.

So it’s Tuesday, right. Tuesdays are for writing. That’s my new thing. I like to get a big ole four-hour chunk done, which propels me into writing for the rest of the week. And if I start by noon, that’s fine. But if I start by eleven, then I get a nap before work, so I’m really going to try to prop my eyes open and move my fingers.

Although I might write from bed. Right now I’m on the couch. But the bed is warm. Where IS the heater guy? I called to try to get service through the home warranty and requested a different heater guy, since the last one never showed or called back after he missed the appointment. A different guy called yesterday and said, "So, can we come by at 7am?" I called back and left a message, "No, seven is bad. Noon is good." He called again this morning at six forty-five and asked if he could come by. "No, it’s still not a good time. I’m, um, leaving." "Right now?" He could tell by the way that I was barely forming syllables that I probably wasn’t going anywhere, but come on, that’s just silly. "Right now. I’ll be back at noon." He said, "We’ll see what we can do," and hung up, so I don’t think I really even have an appointment.

All this stuff confuses me.

Kira astounded me again last night. They have this thing about picking the very few things I don’t like in life (eggplant, squash) and making it taste great. Last night was okra — usually slimy, snotty goo, in my book. But they made it into bhindi masala, and it was sublime. Truly. Tangy and spicy and sweet and NO slime at all. I eat better at the vegans’ house than I normally ever do. (Also, go out right now and buy some Vegan Chocolate Chip cookies from Trader Joe’s. Unreal.)