We Must Be Crazy

Today I cooked and ate breakfast, worked for almost 8 hours, prepared and ate lunch, cooked and ate dinner, washed dishes, took a brief walk, and blogged. For me, this was a full day and it felt like I accomplished a lot. I’m trying to imagine what it would be like if I had kids to take care of, and I just can’t. I don’t think I could handle kids and a full-time job and still have even a shred of a personal life.

And yet, once Faithful Reader and I get married, we’re going to give the kid thing a try. We must be crazy.

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People Change

I did something kinda gross, but I’m also kinda proud of it. I used some chorizo that was like 4 months past its sell-by date. It contained preservatives and it was refrigerated for much of its life. Moreover, it looked fine, smelled fine, and tasted fine. Therefore it was fine. I must really have believed so, because I ate a ton of it!

This is a perfect example of why you should never say that people don’t change

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The B-Word

My Faithful Reader doesn’t use vulgar language very often, but every once in a while he says something so horrible, so unforgivable, that I have to say, “Don’t you ever use that word on me again!”

The B-word is one of those unacceptable words, and he used it on me the other night. Yeah, he actually had the nerve to suggest that I go on a Budget.

Um, and what exactly would I budget? Except for food, a couple of books, and a winter coat (necessities all) what have I purchased recently?

Sorry, Faithful Reader, but my contribution to this country’s economy is so limited that I feel it my patriotic duty to buy more, not less. I will Binge instead, and God bless America!

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Imperiled Goals

We are approaching the one-year anniversary of the day I started blogging, and looking over past posts, I’m disappointed by the number of goals I have failed to reach. Two of my remaining goals—to read all 14 of Vonnegut’s novels by the anniversary of his death and to write 365 posts by my blogiversary—are seriously imperiled. In order to meet those goals, I must read two whole novels in the next five days (I’ll allow the 11th as a reading day) and write 26 more posts by the 19th. Can I do it? I guess we’ll find out!

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Spam a Lot

If you don’t like spam a lot, then watch what you write on your blog and never use any of the names or phrases that I used in the first two sentences of my last post. They get you instant spam.

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Sad News

I don’t get excited about celebrity gossip. I couldn’t care less about Britney Spears or Angelina Jolie or Beyonce, all of whom have been mentioned in the news recently. But I am sad to hear that Charlton Heston died Saturday.

As a child, I remember watching him in Planet of the Apes. How I loved that movie! It had such amazing moments, like the first time Heston’s character spoke to the apes—“Get your stinking paws off me, you damned dirty ape!” And when he saw the ruins of the Statue of Liberty and realized he was on the Earth of the future—“You blew it up! Ah, damn you! God damn you all to hell!”

As a young adult, I discovered Ben-Hur, a classic movie with a great story, beautiful sets and brilliant music, not to mention lepers. The chariot race is one of the best scenes in filmmaking history. Heston kicked some serious Roman ass!

Just a few years ago, I saw him in Bowling for Columbine, and while I agree with Moore about the politics of the NRA, to ambush the old man in his own home was cruel, and I give Heston points for handling the situation with as much dignity as was possible under the circumstances.

Who the celebrities are and what they do is mostly irrelevant to me, but because of these memorable films, Charlton Heston has always been a part of my life and always will be. He will be remembered.

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Don’t Bring Me Down, Bruce

One of the annoying things about moving is that you have to change your phone number. The new phone number is always one that formerly belonged to people who don’t bother to tell anyone that they’ve moved. Our phone number belonged to at least three such people.

One former owner was Asian. His (or her) acquaintances called and called and I had no idea what they were saying, but “wrong number” is such a powerful English phrase that it eventually sunk in. I haven’t heard from them in a while. One was Portuguese, which was getting closer, since Faithful Reader is Portuguese. But really, in these parts, you can’t get any credit for that. There’s a huge Portuguese community here.

The third and most annoying former owner of our number had an unusual surname, so I’m not sure about his heritage. Only 1 in 33,333 families in the U.S. have that name (according to onelook.com), but the guy’s first name is so common that it happens to be the same as Faithful Reader’s. Initially it made me much less forceful in my “wrong number” pronouncements, because it created a tiny shred of doubt, but I got over it quickly.

You have to give this guy’s acquaintances (and bill collectors) points for their persistence. We have had this number for about a year now, yet we still get phone calls for him. Thanks to caller ID, we can see how many times these people are willing to hassle us before they finally believe that they’ve got the wrong number. We can also see who they are, and if we ever feel the urge, we can hassle them right back.

Bruce was really asking for some hassling last night. First, he called shortly past midnight. Faithful Reader answered the phone and was greeted with silence. The second time was about quarter past 1:00. I answered the phone and either I sounded familiar or my sexy voice overcame his shyness because this time he asked for his friend. I told him he had the wrong number. About five minutes later, the phone rang again. I answered and there was silence, so I spoke to the silence, just to make sure we were clear, letting him know that he had the wrong number and that it was very late and he shouldn’t call back again. He must have gotten the message, at least for the night, but who wants to bet that Bruce will be hassling us again soon?

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Share and Share Alike

Libraries are about sharing. That’s what’s so great about them. I love being able to request a book and get it as soon as it becomes available. But have you ever noticed the sucky other side to sharing? It works both ways. That means if someone else wants the book you borrowed, you have to return it, even when it’s a great book like The Omnivore’s Dilemma and you’re not quite done with it yet.

Really, the only thing I like to share is my opinion, and here it is.

The Omnivore’s Dilemma: A Natural History of Four Meals by Michael Pollan

Grade: A

When I saw the title of this book, I knew it was for me. I suffer from the Omnivore’s Dilemma. I can eat almost anything and yet I don’t know what to eat. Like many people, I am concerned not just about nutrition but also about sustainability. When I go to my grocery store and see that they’re selling produce from Peru, I am appalled. I am not alone in my food dilemma, and reading this book, it felt almost as if the author had written it just for me.

Pollan’s approach to this vast topic was to try four different meals: a completely industrial fast-food meal, an “organic” meal, a meal produced by sustainable farming practices, and a meal of locally foraged foods. He did his research and he was willing to do anything necessary, even slaughter chickens and hunt wild pigs, in order to understand the true cost of the foods that we eat. The Omnivore’s Dilemma was interesting and enlightening and I recommend it for all.

Sharing time over.

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Four Walks

I’ve only taken four walks so far this year. But four walks, I hope you’ll agree, are better than none.

1

It was January. The last time I had walked the path, there had been a few brave flowers still standing their ground. Now, the plants were brown and withered. Judging from the amount of ice on the ground, the path had only just become passable again. No one seemed to know or care. The path was empty. Perhaps everyone else knew that the frigid air would send pains through their sinuses and irritate their lungs and make their ears ache, like it did to me.

I noticed a stand of white trees, slender and densely packed. Birch, maybe. Their branches were so fine and all headed straight up, that they reminded me of hair. This, I thought to myself, must be how the world looks to a flea standing on the back of a dog. Then it hit me—I am a flea, an Earth flea.

2

I took a walk to the post office, which just so happens to be next to a bakery. Does the naughtiness of buying and eating pastries outweigh the good of fresh air and exercise? I don’t know, but I do know that I must bring more money next time so that I don’t have to decide between a cream horn and an apple pocket, but can buy both!

3

Faithful Reader and I tried to walk off some bad news together. A walk won’t cure your ills, but it will make you tired enough to stop obsessing on them. It may also reveal a new route to you, . . .

4

. . . such as a route to the grocery store, a route that you can walk without the constant risk of becoming some crappy old car’s new hood ornament. I took that route again on Monday. It’s only 2-3 miles round trip, which isn’t too bad, even if you’re carrying a bag of groceries on the return trip. As I walked back, it occurred to me that the fact that is missing from so many discussions of renewable energy is that all animals, including people, are powerhouses capable of converting food into energy. We are all renewable energy sources.

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Catching Up

I have so many things to post about. Let’s start with coffee, since it was around the time that I decided to give up coffee that I also stopped posting regularly. Good news—not only did I give up my morning coffee, but I also quit my caffeine habit. I still drink the occasional cup of caffeinated tea or coffee, but I no longer have to have it every morning. Isn’t that swell?

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