The spouse-unit picked up lots of avocados at the farmers’ market this past Sunday. As in, way more than I should be eating now that I’m (supposed to be) watching what I eat. Some of them were these funny thin-skinned ones that got bumped and bruised on the 7-minute car ride home. Somehow, they ended up in the fridge and it took a few days for me to notice them.
Of course, they were rather sad-looking by then, and there’s nothing better for sad-looking fruit and veggies than a trip over the Rainbow Bridge in your trusty blender. For this reincarnation, I turned to my cooking Bible (Old Testament version): How to Cook Everything by Mark Bittman.
Fast Avocado Soup was, indeed, fast. It was also, whaddayaknow, very avocado, to Spice’s delight and the spouse-unit’s dismay. Frothy, cool and light, I seasoned mine with Old Bay and totally forgot the heaps of cilantro I meant to toss on top. But it was still really good and I’ll be bringing this one out again over the summer.
You do know spaghetti is my favorite food ever right? I’ll be there in 15.
Wow. I think spaghetti is my least favorite food EVER. I’m pretty sure it was the grade school lunches that killed it for me.
Up super-early to bake a loaf of bread for a co-worker. [yawn] I must be crazy.
Playing around with Aperture 3. So far, very very cool.
Umm, why is there a lampshade in the bathroom…
Wow. See that fence in the background? It’s wrapped around an empty lot. An empty lot that used to be the first job I ever had, working in a cheap run-down old movie theater.
I won’t name the chain, but it started with an ‘E’ and happens to be the name of a certain Twilight hunk. a-hem The place was really old and run down, but the worst part was the roaches. We had to clean the bathroom every few hours (or at least pretend to), and I would cringe every time I went in there and heard the little scurrying sound of lots of little cockroach feet. Bleah. (I think this at least partially explains why I’m such a theater-snob for the Arclight now.)
Plus, the manager was a total dick. I remember some rather vast lady coming up to the concession stand to buy popcorn and making a fuss about what kind of oil we used and if it was heart healthy or not because she had a heart condition, blah-blah. (Lady, do you really need a 16-year-old to tell you that you just shouldn’t be eating cheap, gross movie theater popcorn — ever??) The manager just lied through his teeth, waxing on about how they used the “best oil for your heart” or some equivalent bull$hit. I was totally freaking out for the next two hours that said lady was going to have a coronary right then and there in our dingy theater and stuck thinking what a horrid way that would be to die.
Anyhow, it’s gone now. Too bad the roaches are homeless now, but I really don’t have any good memories of the rat-trap, other than it getting me out of the house at the time. ;-)
Now, see here, Ralph…
I love you, Mr Emerson, but can you please a little clearer on what you mean by “the self”?
I think it was an indirect, non-religious way to refer to the immortal soul, the kind that we share with God and everything else in the world. He was a transcendentalist and a lot of his ideas cross over with Vedanta, a philosophical branch of Hinduism.
In Vedanta, there’s God (as an otherworldly immortal energy in the universe) and there’s the Self (our immortal soul, temporarily distinct from God or the universal energy). And that’s what/why we’re always trying to reconnect to.
Crap. Just realized that my fav snowboarding boots EVER don’t fit me post-pregnancy. Gah.
wallpapers i love :: Wunderwaffe by ~polaus on deviantART
wallpapers I love :: More Fun Than Tekken by ~sevenflow on deviantART
wallpapers i love :: asian by ~Feni-x on deviantART
This one is neat, but I have a tough time getting my terminal screens to match it nicely. A pity.
Be it known unto you that henceforward I obey no law less than the eternal law. I will have no covenants but proximities. I shall endeavour to nourish my parents, to support my family, to be the chaste husband of one wife, — but these relations I must fill after a new and unprecedented way. I appeal from your customs. I must be myself. I cannot break myself any longer for you, or you. If you can love me for what I am, we shall be the happier. If you cannot, I will still seek to deserve that you should. I will not hide my tastes or aversions. I will so trust that what is deep is holy, that I will do strongly before the sun and moon whatever inly rejoices me, and the heart appoints. If you are noble, I will love you; if you are not, I will not hurt you and myself by hypocritical attentions. If you are true, but not in the same truth with me, cleave to your companions; I will seek my own. I do this not selfishly, but humbly and truly. It is alike your interest, and mine, and all men’s, however long we have dwelt in lies, to live in truth. Does this sound harsh to-day? You will soon love what is dictated by your nature as well as mine, and, if we follow the truth, it will bring us out safe at last.
Alie Waldron, 23, and Greg Zimmerman, 26, step out, retrieve their photos and examine the results: one of the couple kissing, another of them posturing as rock stars. But clearly, something is missing. “We didn’t get one of my shoes!” Waldron cries, pointing to her new stiletto sandals. They must go back in, Waldron decides. To fully document the night, she must document her shoes.
AmazonAssist?! Assist me with WHAT, zeroing my bank account? NamingFAIL.
I love code as much as the next geek, but this is a little freaky.
