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The planet keeps turning
Jan. 12th, 2003 04:28 pmEric just said that to me on the phone, as he prepared to go be late in getting to the computer lab to do various things.
I feel overtaken by events, although there haven't really been any huge ones. Eric got home safely, which was excellent. He was rather subdued for our reunion, possibly because he was coming down with a cold. The worst of that seems past, and I didn't get it. It did mean that our plans for spending extra time together this week rather fizzled.
The day he got back was Monday. I have remarkably little ready memory of the rest of the week. Well, aside from watching with increasing incredulity and dismay the train wreck that is Season Six of "Buffy." It's a bad, bad sign when one has ten thousands times more fun reading the Television Without Pity recaps than one has actually watching the show. Argh. Why does this keep happening? I did enjoy reeling with hysterical laughter with Raphael, however.
What I cooked on various days was pasta with soy crumbles, salad, bread, steamed green something or other; spicy bean pot pie with steamed something or other; and tofu with pea pods, bok choy, and scallions well seasoned with ginger, garlic, serrano pepper, soy sauce, and sherry. The last almost makes me think I'm doing better--I had to make it up, having not had the ingredients for what I originally planned to make because Simon Delivers's web provider went kerflooey for a couple of days and I couldn't get my groceries. It was much too cold for me to seriously contemplate actually going to the store. I used to shop for for adults by bus, but I am grown wimpish, apparently. Or smarter. It's hard sometimes to tell the difference.
Eric asked me some leading questions about my book that produced a flurry of notes, which was very useful. I need to actually write the next scene soon, however.
Wednesday, I think, I pretty much took as a vacation day. I didn't have to go cat-sit, I didn't have to go anywhere except out for a walk. That was nice. Ordinarily I'd have lunch with my mom, but we moved that to Friday as part of a complicated plan involving David's doing a brain transplant on her computer. That happened on Friday afternoon and a bit into the early evening, and on the whole went very smoothly. My mother lives on the edge of a nature preserve, so there were a lot of birds to watch while David was working. Most of the really unusual ones she sees come through in the spring, but I was pleased to see both a downy and a hairy woodpecker close enough to observe the differences. And I haven't seen my own nuthatches much this year, being out of suet.
David and I got home too late for me to think of cooking, but Lydy took us to Little Tijuana. I can't eat most of what's on the menu, especially since they never can get a request to leave the cheese off actually to the kitchen in one piece; but they have a black bean veggieburger that I quite like, and David still gives me the green olive off his enchilada, as he has been doing these twenty-five years at least.
Thursday Eric and I had hoped to have a date, but the cold supervened. I gleefully skipped out on cooking dinner, went by Lotus to Go and got some of their curry soup, with chicken, for the sufferer and a dish of rice noodles with tofu and vegetables for me. It was very odd. I had decided that I'd get the curry soup with shrimp, because I knew Eric liked that and then I could have a taste, and that I'd get the rice noodle dish with mock duck. But that is not what came out of my mouth, and by the time I had realized thism it seemed discourteous to correct myself. The place was fairly crowded and it likes to move at a brisk pace. Eric liked the chicken perfectly well and I liked my tofu.
We decided not to hug or kiss to minimize the chance of contagion, and that was so odd that we had to have a very sentimental telephone conversation later in the evening.
Mostly, my mind seems to have gone into hibernation. This is not necessarily a bad sign, but it makes for boring journal entries.
Pamela
I feel overtaken by events, although there haven't really been any huge ones. Eric got home safely, which was excellent. He was rather subdued for our reunion, possibly because he was coming down with a cold. The worst of that seems past, and I didn't get it. It did mean that our plans for spending extra time together this week rather fizzled.
The day he got back was Monday. I have remarkably little ready memory of the rest of the week. Well, aside from watching with increasing incredulity and dismay the train wreck that is Season Six of "Buffy." It's a bad, bad sign when one has ten thousands times more fun reading the Television Without Pity recaps than one has actually watching the show. Argh. Why does this keep happening? I did enjoy reeling with hysterical laughter with Raphael, however.
What I cooked on various days was pasta with soy crumbles, salad, bread, steamed green something or other; spicy bean pot pie with steamed something or other; and tofu with pea pods, bok choy, and scallions well seasoned with ginger, garlic, serrano pepper, soy sauce, and sherry. The last almost makes me think I'm doing better--I had to make it up, having not had the ingredients for what I originally planned to make because Simon Delivers's web provider went kerflooey for a couple of days and I couldn't get my groceries. It was much too cold for me to seriously contemplate actually going to the store. I used to shop for for adults by bus, but I am grown wimpish, apparently. Or smarter. It's hard sometimes to tell the difference.
Eric asked me some leading questions about my book that produced a flurry of notes, which was very useful. I need to actually write the next scene soon, however.
Wednesday, I think, I pretty much took as a vacation day. I didn't have to go cat-sit, I didn't have to go anywhere except out for a walk. That was nice. Ordinarily I'd have lunch with my mom, but we moved that to Friday as part of a complicated plan involving David's doing a brain transplant on her computer. That happened on Friday afternoon and a bit into the early evening, and on the whole went very smoothly. My mother lives on the edge of a nature preserve, so there were a lot of birds to watch while David was working. Most of the really unusual ones she sees come through in the spring, but I was pleased to see both a downy and a hairy woodpecker close enough to observe the differences. And I haven't seen my own nuthatches much this year, being out of suet.
David and I got home too late for me to think of cooking, but Lydy took us to Little Tijuana. I can't eat most of what's on the menu, especially since they never can get a request to leave the cheese off actually to the kitchen in one piece; but they have a black bean veggieburger that I quite like, and David still gives me the green olive off his enchilada, as he has been doing these twenty-five years at least.
Thursday Eric and I had hoped to have a date, but the cold supervened. I gleefully skipped out on cooking dinner, went by Lotus to Go and got some of their curry soup, with chicken, for the sufferer and a dish of rice noodles with tofu and vegetables for me. It was very odd. I had decided that I'd get the curry soup with shrimp, because I knew Eric liked that and then I could have a taste, and that I'd get the rice noodle dish with mock duck. But that is not what came out of my mouth, and by the time I had realized thism it seemed discourteous to correct myself. The place was fairly crowded and it likes to move at a brisk pace. Eric liked the chicken perfectly well and I liked my tofu.
We decided not to hug or kiss to minimize the chance of contagion, and that was so odd that we had to have a very sentimental telephone conversation later in the evening.
Mostly, my mind seems to have gone into hibernation. This is not necessarily a bad sign, but it makes for boring journal entries.
Pamela
