For the last couple of days, I've had cereal for breakfast. Normally, I have something more substantial, but with the difficulty in chewing -- which pops up at the dammedest times -- I was looking for something that would require very little of it. As it happens, I had picked up some Special K, and that's what I've been having. We tend to rotate between four or five kinds of cereal -- Rice Krispies are popular, as are Cheerios (I like the Honey Nut ones), or the organic Cascadian Valley Honey Flakes (I think thats what they're called). I really like Honey Ohs, which have nuts in them, but with their high crunch factor, they're off the menu for a bit. My daughter will eat any of them, though she prefers the Ohs, which she can eat by the handful. What is it about food that you can crunch that is so emotionally satisfying? I remember reading the sci-fi novels about how people would one day get their sustenance from pills.... but I think that day is going to be a long time coming.
A cardinal just landed on the deck, part of which wraps around so that we can see it from the dining room. The window here reflects the light, so birds that alight on the railing don't realize that we're in here. Usually, its just robins, sometimes a golden finch (whose name I would not know except that my wife does) or a crow, but every so often.... We're seeing more cardinals this year, which is nice.
I've mentioned how much I enjoy reading Fine Homebuilding magazine; I think of it as a architectural porn, since it shows lovely things that I almost certainly will never have. From the current issue's back cover: "A beach house with a giant clamshell above the front door easily could be a tacky idea. But with an ample budget and a team of talented artisans, it is possible to carry out a tenuous notion with tremendous success." And if my aunt had wheels, she'd have been a wagon. Still like it, though. Their article about paneled passageways is awesome.
On a blog I like to read, the woman writing it said that she was asked where a specific address could be found. It was an abortion clinic. She's opposed to abortion. She refused to tell them, though she knew. Was that ethically right? I think so, but I'm not sure.
I think that using Photoshop is cheating. I come on PS tutorials on the web, and I read them; what I end up feeling is that minor tweaks -- adjusting the lighting, realigning the image, that sort of thing -- are okay, but major alterations -- removing a blemish or wrinkles, smoothing an image edge -- that feels like cheating to me. The picture's not real any more. It feels like something that we actually did once -- we bought a professionally made photo postcard when we were in San Francisco, and we ended up framing it. If I wanted glossy pictures, I'll clip them from the magazines. I know that seriously dates me.
I think this is awesome.
Week and a half till I lose my job. I think I'm okay with that. (Like that matters! ) Then they send me a check for three months pay (which apparently will not include tax withholding, so even though I wouldn't go ballistic with it, I really have to be sure not to do so), and I get medical coverage for six months. Then thats it for me and them. Speaking of the job, I'm given to understanding that the 'resource action', to use our bloodless phrase, is considered Wave III of an ongoing series, and Wave IV is already planned. I shudder at the thought.
Got to get dressed, go to the store, this that and t'other. But what I'll likely do is keep dithering till this laptop's battery dies...
2 comments:
I have been here a whole year now, but I still cant get use to eating just cereal for breakfast. In Guyana we eat that as snacks. But here everyone is having it for breakfast. One or two time I tried to have it. I ended up slicing some sausages to go with it. Everyone thought I was weird... But I still cant manage to have that as breakfast...
lol i like how you call the architectural magazine porn..
Breakfast is, I think, very much of a cultural thing. You get to seeing what you normally eat as normal, period. The one time (though, I hope, not the only time) that we went to London, we had a heck of a time finding food that we liked. Breakfast came the closest, but as for lunch and dinner -- well, the only times we felt that we dined well (and though I'm a picky eater, that doesn't go for my wife, whom I say would eat paving material if seasoned properly, or my daughter, who's a teenager, and therefore effectively omnivorous) was when we found an Italian restaurant in the theater district. By the end of the week, I was so hungry that I couldn't easily walk twenty feet, and we promised ourselves that if we ever came again, we'd have a bag full of granola bars and raisins. Yet the British obviously thrive on what they eat ! In fact, I said that while I knew they were tough -- World War II, after all -- the proof was that they could eat that food, every day, and like it.
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