Jetsam
Mood:
not too bad, thank you
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I found a fang in my pistacios.
I kid you not. At first, I thought it was a mutant bit of shell and/or nut, but on closer inspection, it looks an awful lot like those pointy parts of the bobcat skull in my curio cabinet.
How odd. Kind of creepy, yet kind of cool, in a macabre kind of way. I wonder how the pistacios managed to overcome the predator and reduce it to this state. I'm guessing sheer numbers, possibly aided by sodium overdose.
Keith Snyder (listed in my links as Writer/Musician/Whatever, which describes him as well as anything) has made the leap from Blogger to Journalscape. Go say hi!
(Shawn: I think you'll like his "This Isn't The Thing" post, especially when he starts ranting about people who try to analyze an author's "intent" rather than reading the story.)
For the record, although Celtophilia is neck and neck with my Slavophilia, I don't like Irish stepdancing. Love the music, love the rhythm, find the "dancing" to be inherently inelegant. Swing those hips, baby!
Speaking of which, I feel somewhat guilty that I haven't been to ballet for the past few weeks. The depression thing hit kind of hard, as did the weird dizzy spells while I was getting used to the meds (sorry, Nick, if you're reading, for breaking #1.)
But it seems to be stabilizing now, and I've started doing my reverse crunches and weights and stuff again for the past couple of days. I'm hoping to start making it back to class next week. And, I have to admit, watching Bravo's series on the making of Cirque du Soleil is very inspiring. Maybe I'll do some jazz or modern as well.
But first I have to figure out what's causing that smell in the kitchen sink. Ah, mundanity.
QotD
A Prize In Every Box!
-- Cracker Jack slogan
bet you didn't get the tooth, the whole tooth, and some gunky stuff around the tooth!
I kid you not. At first, I thought it was a mutant bit of shell and/or nut, but on closer inspection, it looks an awful lot like those pointy parts of the bobcat skull in my curio cabinet.
How odd. Kind of creepy, yet kind of cool, in a macabre kind of way. I wonder how the pistacios managed to overcome the predator and reduce it to this state. I'm guessing sheer numbers, possibly aided by sodium overdose.
Keith Snyder (listed in my links as Writer/Musician/Whatever, which describes him as well as anything) has made the leap from Blogger to Journalscape. Go say hi!
(Shawn: I think you'll like his "This Isn't The Thing" post, especially when he starts ranting about people who try to analyze an author's "intent" rather than reading the story.)
For the record, although Celtophilia is neck and neck with my Slavophilia, I don't like Irish stepdancing. Love the music, love the rhythm, find the "dancing" to be inherently inelegant. Swing those hips, baby!
Speaking of which, I feel somewhat guilty that I haven't been to ballet for the past few weeks. The depression thing hit kind of hard, as did the weird dizzy spells while I was getting used to the meds (sorry, Nick, if you're reading, for breaking #1.)
But it seems to be stabilizing now, and I've started doing my reverse crunches and weights and stuff again for the past couple of days. I'm hoping to start making it back to class next week. And, I have to admit, watching Bravo's series on the making of Cirque du Soleil is very inspiring. Maybe I'll do some jazz or modern as well.
But first I have to figure out what's causing that smell in the kitchen sink. Ah, mundanity.
QotD
A Prize In Every Box!
-- Cracker Jack slogan
bet you didn't get the tooth, the whole tooth, and some gunky stuff around the tooth!
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