Wednesday, January 31, 2007
Three Greek Gods (though the container says The Greek Gods) “Hermes” (honey) Organic Traditional Greek Yogurt. On sale at Wild Oats for $.99 per 6oz. cup.
I cannot remember the last time I ate something that tasted this good. I seriously considered slicing the cup open so I could lick it clean. Lobster? Meh. Give me a cup of this yogurt. Foodgasm.
Caveat: FOURTEEN grams of fat per serving.
Monday, January 29, 2007
stressy day (stressy deadlines)
currently very mellow, due to situational circumstances. a beer. candles. incense. Damien Rice. other additives.
I can’t quite describe it. Sleepy, but not tired. Awake, but far from alert. Eyes half closed. Kinda like being in a warm bath. Not a half-bad idea.
Currently listening :
By Damien Rice
Monday, January 29, 2007
Six weekends in a row. Snow. You know what they’re predicting for next weekend? You guessed it. Snow. SEVEN WEEKS OF SNOW. SE-VEN. SEVENNNNNNN. SSSSSSSSSEVEN.WEEKS. OF. SNOW.
my brain is making a small popping noise.
I just noticed a veterinary school ad on TV. A string of clips of models posing as vet students, talking about how being a vet is going to be so fulfilling. Each model is cradling a different Cute Animal in his/her arms. Dog. Cat. Puppy. Bunny. And what the heck was the last guy holding? I really couldn’t tell. It didn’t even LOOK like anything. Perhaps something with an exoskeleton. Or an armadillo.
The Joy of Cooking contains a recipe for cooking peccary. Just in case there’s a sale at Safeway. Now you know where to look. Because epicurious doesn’t list anything. And we’re all lost without epicurious.
Erin and Tim hosted an absolutely lovely dinner just for me the other night. Decadent steak tartar, succulent coq-au-vin… I felt so special! I very much look forward to returning the favor. But no peccary, I swear.
Friday, January 26, 2007
Friday night. Rough day.
Cream puffs and bourbon.
Might need more cream puffs. And bourbon.
Wednesday, January 24, 2007
Simultaneously Slap and Hug
Scenario: Sunday brunch with friends at hip metro dining establishment. Recorded music is playing.
Wife: Oh, I love this song! (turns to Husband, jokingly asks) Did you have them play this just for me? You’re so sweet! (kisses husband)
Husband: (literally does a little happy bounce in his seat) Hey! Freebie!
I love them, and yet I want to slug them. Damn happy people. Meh.
Tuesday, January 16, 2007
I was a Brownie for two years. According to the rules and regs of Girl Scouting, it’s supposed to be three, but my small town could only manage two. I remember this only because we received a wedge-shaped badge for each year of Brownie service, and those badges were designed to be topped by an arch-shaped “graduation” badge called the Bridge To Juniors. Our bridges looked a little funny with a big blank space where that third wedge should have been.I quit after earning my wings (another badge) and crossing the Bridge To Juniors. That would be the physical bridge at the ceremony where one Becomes A Girl Scout. Why? Because my mom said I’d have to keep my room clean if I wanted to stay in the scouts. I hated scouts. It was no contest. My mother, by the way, was kicked out of the Campfire Girls and Bluebirds. I don’t know why, and she’s not talking.
Troop 155. Lenni-Lenape Council. Indoctrinate! Assimilate!
So go and buy some overpriced cookies from some little girls who earn something like a penny a box for their troop, and buy them from the girls who are working for it instead of having their parents bring the order form to the office. It’s a terrible thing, going door to door hawking cookies. I wish I could have gotten out of it, but instead, I’ll repay the girls who, like me, were forced to do the work themselves.
Monday, January 15, 2007
Another child leaves the nest.
I sold my Mac Mini tonight. Brian, its new owner, seems like Good People. He lives in San Francisco, and the Mini has always wanted to go there. It should be a good fit.
My dearest Mini, you served me well. You deserve more than I can give you. Brian will use you for music editing, and I know that’s something you’ve been interested in trying. It will certainly be more fun for you than holding up my desk lamp has been. You’ve been all alone down there in that cold office all winter. I will miss you, and you will always have a special place in my heart, along with your brethren the 6100/66 and the Yosemite tower.
May the Force be with you.
Saturday, January 13, 2007
Fell outta bed
Dragged a comb across my head
Actumally, no. The heat hummed on. The timed light in the living room clicked on. The combination is a gentle alarm clock of sorts… and I woke slightly, not enough to open my eyes, but thought, “It’s Saturday. I don’t have to get up.” It was oh-so-pleasant.
The pleasant moment was followed immediately by “I need to get a new filter thingie for the furnace” and “Ugh, Rocket, don’t lick my EYE please” but then I conked back out and slept for another hour or so. Waaaarrrrmmm in bed. Cold and treacherous out there.
Conflicting plans for this evening. Which never happens. It’s my own darn fault. I’ve never been the type to use a date book. I carry one around, I simply don’t remember fill it out. I’m better about entering stuff on my computer calendar, but my Palm died and I never replaced it.
things to do, things to do…
Friday, January 12, 2007
The forecast high today is NINE degrees (that’s -12.7 to my Celsius friends). Our wind chill right now is -16. Kohoutek has taken to very casually sitting directly in front of the heat vent in the living room. Oh, the forecast high for tomorrow? SIX. Brrrrrr. It’s the most bundle-ing tiiiiiime of the yeeeaaar.
The CFDA (Council of Fashion Designers of America) has released “guidelines” for runway models. The guidelines are, to make a pun, shockingly thin. No way to enforce them, not that there is much to enforce in the first place. In fact, one of the “guidelines” is that models who are under treatment for an eating disorder cannot work without medical approval. Um, doesn’t that just discourage the seeking of help in the first place? Another guideline is to “introduce more nutritious backstage catering” because, you know, models don’t eat simply because they don’t know where to find food. Yeah.
I’ve been crying a lot lately. Not depressed-crying, but sad-book crying, sad-movie crying, sad-events-being-touched-upon-during-The Today Show’s-55-year-anniversary-montage crying. Why does that happen? In all of these instances, I was already familiar with the subject matter. I’d read the book before, I’d seen the movie before, I’d lived through the tragedies before. No surprises. So why do I have these emotional attachments?
Anyway. Must get ready for work. And chip the ice off my walk. Brrr.
And just for fun: cake!
Friday, January 05, 2007
It’s snowing again.
Now, I realize that everyone outside of Colorado thinks that we have snow all the time. And it’s an image that we try to promote, for the sake of the skiing industry and to keep intruders (such as myself) from moving here. But the honest truth is, we don’t get much snow outside of the “high country” and even when we do, it’s usually gone within 24 hours. I dealt with a LOT more snow when I lived in NJ. But we had that blizzard right before Christmas which dumped 21″ in my back yard and varying similarly huge amounts throughout the metro area. It was followed a week later by another 8 or so inches. It was finally back up to 50 degrees yesterday, but that’s an awful lot of accumulation to try to melt. And now it’s snowing again. We’re expecting another 6-8″ by the time it’s done this afternoon. Let me just say this, and only because I have to go to work today: I AM SICK OF IT.
Yeah, yeah, pretty white smooth clean canvas, stunningly quiet, all that. I recognize the beauty of a fresh snowfall, but it’s much more enjoyable with friends, and barring any attempt to drive on already-rutted-with-ice-and-now-covered-with-snow roads.
Monday, January 01, 2007
First things first: I certainly hope that everyone rang in 2007 in their respectively desired ways. Yay, new year!
Yeah, yeah, friends and family and sharing and laughter and all that. I know. Those are the bits about the holidays, any holiday, that I love most. But here’s the thing: a full three years after my car accident, I finally received a settlement check last week. It doesn’t make me rich by any definition of the word, but I can pay off my minimal credit card debt (it took years of hard work to get it down to minimal, I assure you) and give the rest to my uncle-the-financial-guy to invest after I buy myself something extravagant (uncle’s professional suggestion).
I bought myself a $535 pair of cowboy boots. They are beautiful, and the design that they’re a very well-made (hand-made, actually) knockoff of rings in at $895, but oh.my.god. I do not spend that kind of money on shoes. On anything, really. Except computer equipment, and that’s got a whole tax advantage going on. I really don’t think I can amortize these boots. My mind is reeling.
Also, for anyone following along, the snow globe is shaking and I haven’t dropped it yet.