Good Bye Galleria
Last night was my last class at my second yoga home downtown. Yoga Bhoga is moving across the river next month. It isn't far, but too far to walk from the office which means I have to drive. It's not bad, just not as nice as walking.

I have about 80 things I want to do today and sitting here typing is not one of them. See ya.

What Doesn't Belong?
Remember on Sesame Street they had this segment (probably still, sadly I've had no reason to watch Sesame Street since the early seventies, so I can only guess) that went "one of these things is not like the other, one of these things doesn't belong" and then they'd show 3 blue socks and a red sock. Or for a harder one: an apple, an orange, grapes and a German Shepard.

Doesn't the SAT have questions like that, too? Which one of these things doesn't go in the sequence: equilateral, obtuse, isosceles, scalene or Nile, Amazon, Yangtze, Rhine?

"What doesn't belong" is barely related to my point today, which is that people will say absolutely anything on the radio.

One of my stations does a bit during my drive home where a person will call in with an issue, say: toilet seat up or down? Then other people call in with their stories of dealing with the same issue.

Yesterday, a woman called who had hooked up with this guy who had come to her house and cleaned her carpet (In this context, not a euphemism. He actually shampooed the carpet.) but he was 10 years younger and she wanted to know what experiences women had with dating younger men. Or younger men dating older women.

So this woman phones in and starts to tell about how when she was 21, her dad, then 48 was dating a 19 year old. This is a red sock. It has nothing to do with anything.

Other radio caller goofballs: people who call in with long drawn out stories with all their personal business and lying brother-in-law and klepto Aunt who ran off with Grandma's china and their bladder surgery complications and the tail they have growing out of the base of their spine. And callers that get all excited telling a long, detailed story that goes nowhere and has zero payoff whatsoever.

Back to the lady with her carpet cleaner – when the radio people played back the listener comments, one guy said, "If he's a good kisser and she doesn't outclass him, I think she should give him a chance." The woman said that was him. He'd heard the show and called in. I think she should give him a chance, too.

Blogging for Jesus
The title has nothing to do with anything but I had this random blip in my head of a song from way back in the early 80's that may or may not have been on the Repoman soundtrack. (Aside: according to imbd, if you liked Repoman, another title you might like is Innerspace. Isn't that some sort of Fantastic Journey movie where they shrink Dennis Quaid into a microship and he floats around in Joe's spleen on a scientific mission? I'm too lazy to look it up myself but I'm just wondering how that relates to Repoman. I'm not seeing a connection of any kind.)

Back to the possibly on the Repoman soundtrack song, it went " [ something ] for Jesus" and I can't remember what the something was. It was funny or ironic and it was one of those bands like Social Distortion or Dead Kennedys, but probably not either of those. This is bothering me now. There's not really a great way to look this up online given what I have. If you have any idea what I'm talking about (Erin?) let me know.

Yesterday I left the office the first legally acceptible moment and zoomed home. I really wanted to be outside but wasn't in the mood for any hardcore digging and hoeing and raking so I found a sunny spot and took a little digging tool (old knife) and pulled weeds from the cracks in the driveway. It was wonderful.

Also, the new "walls of water" I bought at Fred Meyer were CRAP and when I got home I found the CRAP one slumped over, water drained and poor little tomato crushed into the dirt underneath. I propped it up and told it how sorry I was and took the plastic thing and tossed it aside. I think it's going to be okay. (The tomato. The plastic things are landfill.)

Irises are blooming - gorgeous. Still lots of major projects to do out there. I need to finish dahlias before I can start anything new.

It's Miller Time
What do you think?

That's the garden. Put it all in this afternoon. The ultimate in delayed gratification. Just a bunch of dirt now but think how great that's going to be in a couple of months.

Mom and Erin were here this weekend and yesterday we went to the Farmer's Market and there were heirloom tomatoes up the wazoo. I bought 4 plants this year -- now I have friends at the office to share with if it gets too hairy. But also last year I made a tomato soup which was godhead. I'm not a big tomato soup fan but probably because I associate it with the acidy, tinny taste of the canned stuff. Think of that wonderful sweet, fresh, homegrown tomato taste distilled into a hot bowl of soup. If you're not swooning, you're not a tomato person.

I also worked on dahlias. The tubers I "saved" are trashed. I had to junk most of them. I've been putting them in mass graves just in case I've underestimated them. But then some of them look horrible and wrinkled and have tons of "eyes" on them. I ran out of gas on those early. I'm going to have to hit it next weekend. But the dirt is ready.

Also at the Farmer's Market I saw a bunch of pretty plants that I would love to get and know just where I'd put them. But that area is not ready dirt and needs lots of TLC and I can't imagine when I'll get to that. I don't have the stamina of a true gardener.

Just today I pooped out way before I was done with my chores for today. I pushed through, raking bark dust, spreading mulch and sorting through moldy tubers. That reward beer was one of the best I've ever tasted.

I was too tired to wash my hair except it was infused with bark dust and living dirt and I had to do it anyway. Now it's 4pm and I'm going to catch up on my shows with a delicious drink.

Also, for those of you following along at home, I've been eating 3 normal food meals a day and the digestion is humming like a dream. Yay.

In Case You Die
This week has been a little frazzling between the whole, you know, thing that I'm not going to write about again (I hope) but still hasn't totally gone away and what for me has been a busy activity week. Monday I worked late because of the 2 hours at the Drs. and then went to the store to buy saltines, applesauce and bananas for the week plus pick up a prescription so I got home late; Tuesday was yoga night so I got home late; last night I met my long-lost-and-now-found-again friend Tonya for a wonderful walk and dinner so I got home late and tonight we have tickets to see Harvey Pekar and when we get home (late), Mom and Erin will have arrived.

This long wind-up is supposed to explain why I'm phoning in another entry. Death, Taxes and CSRs via Consumerist, someone has to say it:

... another form of grief that often comes about after the passing of a loved one: sorting through a lifetime’s documentation of accounts and finances, trying to get the deceased’s consumer affairs in order. Unfortunately, his father’s affairs seem to have been in a bit of a mess. But no matter how well organized a loved one’s finances are at his time of death, it’s cold comfort to go straight from the funeral to the endless sorting of papers and documentation.

We’re posting this largely to suggest to our readers that they might want to have a serious discussion with their parents about what to do in case they die.

Enbiggen Nothing
This morning I intended to avoid writing about all that delicious broth and rice I've been eating and instead write some sort of thoughtful thing about cooking: imagination v. skill. But I realized I wouldn't be able to crank it out in the 9 minutes allotted so I passed for now.

Here's a quick tidbit I happened upon from I Blame The Patriarchy commenting on the celebrity birth glut called More Mouths to Feed which I include mainly because I love the quote [re: celebrities] "They enbiggen nothing worthwhile."

But celebrities are a different story. They are not public individuals, they are public globs of marketing. They enbiggen nothing worthwhile. Their genius is limited to their mastery of slimming techniques and pole dancing. Their “work” is to a) recite scripted dialogue under direction, b) conform to patriarchal beauty standards while doing it, c) summarily execute a sex scandal or a drug problem, and d) write a book about it. Nobody, aside from a few hack critics who shill for the movie studios and publishing houses, really gives a crap about part A so much as they do about the supposedly extraordinary personal lives manufactured for these celebrities as a result of all that crazy marketing.

Nearing Normal
I slept like a dream last night. Wow, it was fantastic. I woke up once and opened an eye long enough to see it was 4:30am and thought: I'm sleeping, awesome. And didn't wake again until the alarm went off.

Sorry to keep yammering about my digestive system but that's all I've got going right now. I guess that's not true. I keep a card at my desk for things to blog about but sometimes those things don't look so interesting and I can't imagine why I scribbled the note in the first place or the note has become obsolete.

For example, scarves. I used to not get scarves in winter. You'd toss one around your next and it didn't add a lot in terms of warmth plus it became another obstacle to trip on or drip into your lunch. Then, I learned this cool way to secure it from my cousin Lisa and I was going to do a photo demo which I never got around to. But, now it's spring and even though the weather still is cold and sucks ass, if I'm going to demonstrate anything, it's going to be open-toed shoes. I will WILL warm weather into being.

So we're back to my health. Yesterday when they took my pulse, it was 80 and she said that was normal. Not for me. Yikes. I've been feeling like my heart was racing which I suspect has to do with all this food deprivation. Last night I drank some organic sports beverage juice. I've always wondered what those drinks have in them and if I'm reading the label correctly, this is juice with salt added. Couldn't you do that yourself? Secrets revealed!

Also the Dr. said I could eat jello which is apparently a clear liquid. (?) I can't remember the last time I ate jello (I'm supposed capitalize that and put a TM after it or something, aren't I?). We are not a jello family. Even the extended family. If you come to a summer potluck in Orleans, no one in my family will bring something with jello. Just not part of our repertoire. I'm shoveling some peach jello in right now. I'm hungry.

We also aren't pot roast people. I can't ever remember my Mom making pot roast. We ate lots of beef but it was stuff you'd throw on the grill. I can't remember any of the cooks in my extended family making pot roast. I made a pot roast for Easter Dinner. I read several recipes and mainly used Mark Bittman. I only ate three bites, remember the digestive thing, but I didn't love it. Bob and Priscilla said it was good and they arm wrestled for leftovers but I don't think this will become part of the regular rotation. Bob likes red meat, maybe I can find some other fun recipes that will please him.

Finally: if you get the IFC Channel, please check out Henry Rollins show. (A possessive belongs in there somewhere.) He is so intelligent and funny and informed and articulate. He does great interviews (this week: Werner Herzog) and has fun music (this week: Frank Black). You're probably thinking you don't need one more show, but this is only once a week and it's less than 25 minutes. Unless you're say, my Dad, you will love it.