First, am I supposed to call it that? Or Covid-19. I don’t want to appear pandemic ignorant my first week back here.
Ahhh… trash. Garbology. This used to be a favorite topic of mine. Today’s morning walk made me dust it off. (I did forget to take a shot of the, hand’s down, Amazon winner. They had to have 20 boxes out.)
Here are some of my faves:
Filed under absurdities, blogging, garbage, mfta, the new workplace
Let me explain.
If you are fan of the Dead, or any jam band for that matter, the expression when describing songs running together in a set is ‘into’: [song title] into [song title] into [song title]. This is what makes jam bands so epic.
For example Scarlet Begonias > Fire on the Mountain > Estimated Prophet*
These past few weeks have certainly seen the most home cooked meals in every household. We are all hunkered down and feeding ourselves. I know I have not cooked this many consecutive meals since… well, maybe ever.
How the hell is she going to tie these two together, and has she not had enough fresh air lately?
C’mon, I always tie it together. Here goes:
Sunday night we had short ribs. And there was just a little bit of gravy left, so…
Monday night I used it to start a mushroom barley soup. And there was a little bit of that left so…
Tonight I used it to start a mushroom gravy. (which, thank goodness we finished because I am out of beefy recipes)
Short ribs > Mushroom Barley Soup > Mushroom Gravy.
Cooking is like a Grateful Dead Set.
*from Cornell, Barton Hall 5.8.77
Stress crafting. That is what I called it. I was compelled to glue glass.
After collecting a season’s worth of glass corks from rosé wines, and obsessively scouring eBay for vintage pink depression glassware, I came up with some ideas for what to make.
This was the first piece. No it is NOT a bong!
It is a candlestick. But when I put this up on social, there were quite a few people who thought it was, in fact, a bong.
What does this say about my friends? Oh please, don’t judge.
Here are the rest of them. Yeh, I guess they all look like bongs, maybe.
“Write!”, he said. Actually, he didn’t use the exclamation point. He never does. Truthfully, he has the most calming voice on earth, he needs no punctuation.
No, I am not hearing the voice of G-d, or having some crazy ass hallucinations (yet). I am talking about a conversation with my hypertension doc last week.
Me: Things are getting a little crazy out there, I’ve had a few spikes, do you want to change my meds.
Him: No. I don’t. Have a drink.
You can see why this man is my doctor.
Me: Really?
Him: Yes. You’re fine. You will regulate. But, I have another idea… write.
Me: Wow. Write! (this must be where the exclamation point came in).
So, the story continues that he did not know that I was an ex-blogger. But he does know me. And he is a hypertension wizard from another dimension who practices and writes about the mind/body connection and knows who his patients are. Oh, and he sort of saved my life.
His directive to write was to Write it Out. Write what you feel, fear, think, obsess about… write the whole damn roller coaster tape loop running in your head. Read it once. And then just put it away.
So…
Yeh, I might do that. But tonight while I was walking the dog a lightbulb went off in my head.
Write.
And this is where I always did that.
So, I guess I’m back. Stay tuned…
Filed under blogging, current events, health, the new normal, the new workplace
i could cry but i don't have time 