Now Playing -
a/c and 'FUV.
Now Eating -
pizza is supposedly on its way.
Now Feeling -
stuffy. I hab a code.
Now Tweeting
- Melanie
Amazing how a simple oil change can turn into new front brakes, new rotors, a new alternator and $486 out of our savings account, idinit? Good thing we really do trust our mechanic � hate to think how much someone whose aim it was to screw us over would actually charge. Still, dayum.
Every once in a while, I�ll have a dream where I say or do something that manages to stick after I awaken. I once wrote a song based on something I said to a friend in a dream. Not a great song (think me channeling Mary Chapin Carpenter rewriting John Gorka�s �I Saw A Stranger With Your Hair�) but a song nonetheless. The dream I had this morning centered on driving through the night on a dark country road. The car had a big ol� bench front seat, and I was seated on the right side. Joy was on the left, and my friend S. (who coincidentally was the friend who inspired the song) was seated in the center, behind the wheel. We were trying to explain to S. what it�s like communicating with an Alzheimer�s patient (Joy�s father had the disease). And in my dream I came out with an analogy that is either kind of brilliant in a way, or makes absolutely no sense at all: that it�s like telling a toddler �Use your words!� and then being pissed when he doesn�t respond in French. Grok that, if you dare.
Did the �Go to dinner with Mom� thang on Sunday, and because of my busy-ness and everyone else�s lack of ambition, no plans were made until Friday. By which time, there was nothing to be had here or here, and Mom was completely uninterested in anything Italian. Seeing as it�s �her day,� it should be her choice, no? She chose...
hibachi.
Huz and I are not big on Japan. (Though Huz, at 6�1�, would be decidedly big in Japan.) Neither of us has ever developed a taste for sushi. Nothing against it; it�s just not a cuisine that we �do.� I hadn�t been to anything Benihana-like since I was a kid. Dad�s been pushing Benihana as of late, but I�m not sure if he�s waxing nostalgic for his days here or just needing a little spectacle with his meal. At first, we weren�t exactly encouraged by the burn marks on the chef�s arm, or the blue not-very-subtle-in-that-it-looked-an-awful-lot-like-painter�s-tape bandage on his finger. Battle scars notwithstanding, he wielded the knife artfully. Shrimp tails were a-flyin�; filet mignon was sliced and diced. And it was fun to watch fried rice being prepared right in front of you, and to drool over just how much butter was being melted into your lobster tail. And see a sliced onion volcano, and a ball of rice as big as your head. Simple, fresh and good. Don�t know if we�ll make a habit of it (because, ya know, flying shrimp can KILL!), but sometimes it hits the spot. Or doesn�t, if you have good reflexes.
Can someone explain to me why the female lawyers-to-be at The Little Law School That Almost Could persist in using their cell phones while they�re on the can??? Those are not the kind of billable hours I want to think about.
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a very fine cat indeed - Friday, Jan. 17, 2014
happy new year! - Thursday, Jan. 24, 2013
this is where i am - Saturday, Jun. 30, 2012
this is how it is - Friday, Feb. 24, 2012
a very late last year's wrap-up - Wednesday, Jan. 18, 2012
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