Today I started listening to this podcast. Listen from the beginning. I promise it is 100% worth your while. 

When I tried to copy and paste this URL, I accidentally pasted the last thing I cut and pasted, which was a line from the last scene I wrote in Jarnsaxa Rising: "And now I will destroy you, and send you back to your father in very small pieces." 

I have two new thing-I-wanna-write ideas battling in my head. GET OFF MY STOVE. On my drive to work in the morning, I think about both of them at the same time. I'm polygraphamous.

Just finished "Between the World and Me," by Ta-Nehisi Coates. Recommended.

There are things most "white" folks, especially white men, can't really understand if our bodies have never been at risk of being randomly destroyed. On an ordinary day. With little or no connection to our actions.

The book is by no means intended solely as a manual for understanding what that feels like. Still, it succeeds brilliantly on that level.

But it's a mistake to read it as a letter to white Americans. The book is written in the form of a letter to his son, following a model laid down by James Baldwin in "The Fire Next Time." In the end, he tells his son to struggle — to pursue a better, less fearful existence for himself — but not to struggle for "the dreamers," the people who buy into the idea of whiteness. Because our awakening, if it ever happens, will have to come from within. And from his perspective, it's not worth getting shot for that slim hope.

I felt that blow — he is saying to us, in effect: "don't wait for your victims to come save you from your own history. We can't and won't. If you're going to change, change yourselves. But I won't wait up nights." There is little to suggest that he should.

The most beautiful parts of the book concern his own coming of age, the awakening of a sense of possibility at Howard University, tasting what it means to blend into the crowd and be invisible while visiting Paris. But also the shooting death of a friend at the hands of the police, and a conversation with his friend's mother. And his son, heartbreakingly certain that Michael Brown's killer would be indicted. And... how little has changed.

Gather your spoons
Our trip to the moon
Is on hold today

Gather yourself
We’re sharing the wealth
Hey it’s on display

Finding the means to say
If you’re suffering in this present emergency
Come home with me
We’ll watch TV

A weekend march
You’re doing your part
Ineffectually (or so it seems)

Just stick to the job
And Peter will rob
Paul eventually

Rome wasn’t sacked in a day
The rot took time to set in
We’re going to win
Wear your flag pin

Your bubble blew up
And you don’t know what
That’s supposed to mean

The sky isn’t blue
And one equals two
Counterfactually

And every cow has a voice
If you’re living in flyover country
You must be pleased
Wave up to me

Well some of us should move to Missoula
And some of us to Cedar Falls
And some of us will settle in Asheville
That won’t be hard to sell at all

And then we’ll teach our cats to pray
We’re not a very disciplined bunch we do things our own way
I guess we’ll stay

Snowflakes falling by the ton
And you know they can’t drive in snow
In Washington
They’ll come undone

Let’s walk together
We’ve such pleasant weather
Look who’s arrived

Wear a pink hat
Well how about that
We’re organized

And hope will always be a place
Even if it’s in a solid red state
We’re still alive

And let that be our battle cry

CAT SCAN. 

Mo Magee is the most determined cat. She is letting me tap this out with one finger in between petting her. 

Tomorrow I have a job interview with the Bureau of Vital Statistics, in Center City. I want this job because it would put me closer to things & people that are important to me. I'm cautious because I don't want to start over with learning processes and building credibility. But, that's life. I also made a few friends and leaving them would make me sad. 

This post had been brought to you by Alteril, the over the counter megadose of tryptophan that knocks you out cold. Which is good so I can sleep now, get up early, scribble in the paper journal, work a half day and then go to the interview. 

Apropos of nothing, am I the only person who has noticed this resemblance? 

With a thrill in my head, and a pill on my tongue, dissolve the nerves that have just begun, listen to Marvin (all night long), this is the sound, of my soul...

Yeah, I had no idea it was a Marvin Gaye reference. Unless the guys in Spandau Ballet knew this guy Marvin who WOULD. NOT. SHUT. UP. 

Ok, that's enough out of me for now. 

I mostly followed Thomas Boutell's recipe posted on OPW a few months back. Except I did not have wheat flour so I subbed in white.

Bread came out fine. Not excellent, but fine. The crust was great. The flavor was not as complex as I'd like. I'm guessing that was the lack of wheat flour? Kid loved it, but she has boring taste buds.

I make bread the "old fashioned" way sometimes. And this recipe just feels weird - what, no fat? 450 oven!?! No second rise?? But it certainly is easy.

I imagine I will make it again. But I'll let the dough sit (in the fridge) a few days to develop more complex taste. Maybe use honey instead of sugar. And likely also encourage a second rise - I.e. remove it from fridge, shape & let sit a few hours before baking. Also, I'll use the wheat flour per the recipe (assuming I remember to buy some)

I'll add photos once I figure out how

​​​​​​​

Drop "Seekrit" from the above and you have the essence of the matter.

Dramatis Ingredienti

4-6 avacados
1 tomato
1 onion
a truly excessive amount of garlic (3-4 cloves)
salt (~1 tsp)
black pepper (~1 tsp)
cayenne pepper (~1 tsp)
cumin (~1 tsp) - optional
tabasco (~2 tsp?)
lemon juice or lime juice (~2 tsp) - I usually use lemon

Use a largish bowl. Dice the first three items on the list, and finely chop or press the garlic. Put everything on this list in the bowl and mix thoroughly. The avacado will be somewhat mashed, but I leave it fairly chunky.

Chill for 30 minutes. You don't HAVE to drink or run a tabletop game during this step, but I find that it helps.

Serve with whatever tortilla chips you've got. I usually use either Tostitos Scoops or Tostitos Hint of Lime.

Eli has been known to use spinach leaves in place of chips, as he is on a low-carb diet. Also great as a spread on a sammich or spooned onto an omelet.

Another introspection oversharing post.

I'm in a mood. A worn, tired, drawn mood. Maybe even a funk.

I've been retired not quite a year. I've explored and partied. I have been raising my kid. I've made a friend or two, and a whole lot of new acquaintances. I would have thought my house would be cleaner. I would have thought my yard would be a showpiece of stellar landscaping. Apparently a clean house and a fine yard are not of enough interest that I actually achieve them.

I'm bored. This life of careening from party to party, grounded in between with raising a spirited kindergartener is grand. Enviable even. But I need something more. My party schedule for the next 6 weeks is a Iberican Sound DJ show in DC, a Mad Max theme ball outside Los Angeles, a Bowie ball in Raleigh, NC. A luxury hotel art something something in Norfolk. Yes, I'm bragging a bit. This part of life is good.

On Monday I texted my brother, who lives outside of DC. And said "Let's have dinner tomorrow!" I also texted my cousin and said "Let's have drinks tomorrow!" I texted a friend as I got in the car Tuesday and said "Let's have a wine!".  I drove the 2 hrs to DC. My brother then canceled on me - he had developed the flu. 

As I get to the friend's house outside DC with 2 bottles of wine, there is a school bus parked in the driveway. And 11 beautiful people get out, just back from a roadtrip to Miami. It was oddly a 60 degree February day, so we sat on the patio with a revolving door of beautiful people and drank our wine. There was also Korean food. And then my cousin showed up and we went to dinner at the brewery. And I get back to my place outside DC and my landlord & a friend are there drinking beers. We watch Sita Sings the Blues. I sleep at midnight. What a lovely Tuesday I think to myself - the type of Tuesday I could never have had if I wasn't retired.

Then Wednesday was a similar day of family & friends, ending with me driving home after BBQ and hanging by a firepit. I stop at a local watering hole as I roll into my hometown. And have a wine or two, then it was 1AM. A lovely Wednesday I would not have had, if I wasn't retired.

So I'm in a funk. I get the blahs after great social interactions as a matter of course - part of my introverted brain being out of happy. Plus the slight hangover doesn't help. And it's a full moon besides. And I'm bored.

One reason I wanted to dine with my brother because I'm thinking about solving my boredom by buying a 230year old mansion. It needs someone to love it. I would make no money at it (though I likely wouldn't lose much money either.) It is huge, and needs a lot of renovating/restoration. A challenge of proportions that seem to leave the men in my life shaking their heads and thinking I'm crazy. The women in my life, on the other hand, are encouraging and think I should go for it. I wanted to talk to my brother because we have similar money sense. But alas, he had the flu.

In years past, I used to get into these funks and attributed them to stresses of my job. Or I'd think the funk was due to a disappointing romantic entanglement. Or a lack thereof. Now I know it’s just me. I get into funks. Even if life is perfect.

I have a blissfully unplanned weekend of being Mama looking me in the face. I can go back to being bored on Monday.

On the night of the Tony Awards, Matt heard that they had released a big block of Hamilton tickets, and by some miracle, they weren't eleventy-billion dollars. Matt nabbed two, and we're going this Wednesday night.

Matt and I are the only two living souls who have never heard a single song from Hamilton. I can't quote any lines, I can't tell you what it's about other than what I remember about Alexander Hamilton from history class, which ain't much.

We've kept the fact that we have tickets (NO Autocorrect, not "rickets") quiet, because we got tired of people telling us, often quite forcefully, how we should prepare for attending the show. 

• "Make sure you listen to the whole show a bunch of times and read the lyrics simultaneously, because you'll never catch it all in the theater."
• "Absolutely do NOT listen to it beforehand. Just peruse the lyrics so this way when you hear them you'll recognize them and you'll understand it better."
• "Read the plot synopsis online!"

• Etc etc etc etc etc.

So we decided that we would go in totally cold. Lin-Manuel Miranda wrote it for people to enjoy on opening night, before there were cast recordings and Wikipedia entries and obsessive tumblr accounts.  So I will attend with open ears, hoping to catch as much as I can, knowing I won't catch it all. I will trust that the creators created something I can follow.  I will trust that the director directed it well, and I will trust that the actors will have good diction.  

"And dat's eet."

      (-- Mike from The Ham Fam.)

​​​​​​​

(x-posted to livejournal.)

I am marching in Seattle today, along with an anticipated 30,000 people. Wearing a turtleneck, carrying shelf-stable milk for teargas, throwing knives strapped to my thighs...just kidding about that last. We're taking kids. Anticipating good behavior from both Seattle Police and the demonstrators, barring agent provacateurs and the King County Sherriff's office going off. The parade route will not be hemmed in, so latecomers can join in at several different access points, and I can peel off whenever I hyperventilate. I think this will be grounding for me though, particularly the earlier, silent portion of the walk. Better than frothing at the mouth on social media. 

About today: