Jerks. Punks. E-mail teases. Sometimes this crazy online world freaks me out. Somebody�s been watching. It is time to take things outside, if only the prairie winds weren�t whistling.
Today I�ve had snippets of �Somebody Remembers the Rose� from Whiskeytown�s Stranger�s Almanac running in an endless loop in my head. Somehow news of the latest Jayhawks album left me feeling nostalgic over the weekend, so I loaded up old Whiskeytown, too, for a bit of variety. And here we are. Don�t let anyone tell you I don�t pine for the younger, simpler days, which were neither young, nor simple, but which I gloss over, much as the new mother forgets the agony of pregnancy and childbirth in those many sleepless years that follow birth.
Um, wait. Where was I going? I�m out of service for a while.
Am I the only one swimming in nostalgia? Next thing you know, I�ll bob my hair, wear hiking boots all the time and spend hours each day printing out tablature from altcountrytab.com. Please don�t let it happen. Have you heard me play the guitar? Exactly.
Grrmph. Hungry. Must go lift weights now. Must eat my arm on the way. In another when-will-she-ever-learn story: I made black bean and vegetable (and cumin, lots of cumin) stew last night, and I just sometimes forget that soup doesn�t hold me through the day. Because of course it was more soup than stew, by the time I substituted what I had on hand for what was really supposed to be in it. Sigh.
My applesauce this morning had blue paint in it. I shall pick up a less messy hobby on my way home.