10.29.03 Hack, Hack
No, I am not killing the old red rooster when she comes; I am coughing. I now have two new bottles of pills to add to my collection. These are more of a limited-time offer than my standard trio. Why is it that no doctor ever reminds you to make sure and take all of your pain meds? I have both a sinus infection and tonsilitis, but my lungs are "surprisingly clear". I didn't think to ask if that meant actually clear, or if it meant "not also infected with sludge, but damn wheezy".

I'm cold. Put on a sweater.

That's better. Thanks.

Last night, I subjected Sweetie to multiple listenings of Easy, by the Commadores and the former Yugoslavia. If you decide to waste a lot of time listening to other songs, be wary: some are oddly disappointing. I also liked Highway to Hell and Word Up.

10.22.04 Cuisan, Cuisine
I like few things better than reading about food while licking vanilla frosting off my fingers. One of the things I was reading was this short piece in the PI about "micro-regions". Sweetie is currently in Times Square; he mapped out a few food places he wanted to visit on his trip. All of them are within a few blocks of his hotel. There was a lot, as you might imagine, to choose from. While doing this, he emailed me with the idea/demand/request that we go back to Charleston, and "eat, walk, and eat".

And then this morning, I get excited thinking about food that is slightly different than Puget Sound's food while at the same time being actually shocked that this intelligent, educated writer said, "When did Southern cooking get satellites?". She is famous for her knowlege of Chinese cooking; would she not think I was a total fool if I said, "When did Chinese cooking get satellites?" Or, really, pick any country. Northern and Southern Italy don't serve the same food, do they?

I suspect part of the problem is size, and also as regions pay attention to food, delineations develop. We didn't used to have even "Northwest" food--and soon there will be "Olympic Peninsula". That's good; Boston and Long Island have different cuisines, and it's about the same number of miles.

And, if you read the thing, my thoughts on what defines a cuisine: Part of it is history. What did your region eat, and how did it cook it, 50 years ago? A hundred years ago? 300 years ago? Use what's good and still available. Part of it is the environment. What are the foods--tiny red huckleberries, soft-shelled she-crabs, morels, white truffles--that are nearly impossible to get elsewhere? What foods are granted special properties by your region's climate? Use those. How does that climate affect modern lifestyles--can you grill in the sunshine year round? Eat hot soup on the fourth of July? Think of those as points of pride, not limitations.

When you think about it, everything in this whole darn country is fusion cuisine. Except pemmican, venison jerky and feed corn.

And because I can't not tell you--there are only three fruits native to the U.S. Nope, not those. These: Raspberries, blueberries and blackberries. A combination most often found today under the trademarked combination "Razzleberry".

10.15.04 Found It!
Are you still reading this? Two updates since August, and this is number two. hehheh. Number Two.

It's not you, it's me. I love you, I'm just not in love with you. And love, of course, means never having to say you're sorry. So there.

What have I been doing, you ask? You don't think you asked, but you're reading this, aren't you? Asking is implied. So:

More very soon, I promise. Whether you like it or not.

10.20.04 Again, Again!
Something is wrong when I feel all proud about making two entries in one month. [Note: First one seems to have been lost as poor Pitas is having trouble. I will try and find it and repost it, but don't hold your breath. Blue is not your color.] Not much to report, other than I am happy it's raining, but only if it starts snowing in the mountains by tomorrow, building up the snowpack to about a zillion feet by Thanksgiving, and then it's cold and clear and sunny the whole rest of the winter. I am not sure what sort of Native American Weather Dance to do, but if you know, please start dancing.

An odd picture. I have always known that "pavement is forever" is a dumb thing to stick on your car (like dirty hippie cars are somehow less damaging than the roads they drive on), but this illustrates that in the earth-water-pavement version of roshambo, earth beats pavement. I think water usually beats earth, but that would mean that pavement beats water. That doesn't quite seem right, but I must go do Actual Work now and cannot continue thinking about geology and roshambo.

9.11.03 Well, Yes.
You thought I had forgotten all about You, hadn't You? Poor You. Who's the Boo? You!

If I had a digital camera, I would try and take a picture of the sky right now. It's the most remarkable shade of smoky orange. Weird for 1 a.m. Weird, but very lovely.

Enough about the sky, You say? All right. Enough. Instead, I will tell you how to handle a cold if you haven't had one in ten years.

One of the reasons I have not been updating much at all is that my sciatica is back somewhat, and I must watch my amount of sitting time. In a recent visit to my surgeon, he casually suggested one of these little humdingers. From the description, it does not exactly sound like a walk in the park. On the up side: Orgasmatron. This article contains the closest to little Viagra winks I have ever seen directed at women and sizzex. But how embarassing--does the doctor offer you a cigarette or something, post surgery?