north state street hill of death, how I hate thee.
I have yet again conquered the hill of death that is North State Street on my bicycle. This job is making me so buff.
Saturday was spent collecting an incredible assortment of fresh vegetables from the farmer's market and various other places in order to make the best damn stir fry I've ever had. And so big it wouldn't fit in the pan. I also picked up this great mini cook book at Ann Arbor recycle entirely about cooking PORK! (Pat, I am adequately prepared to take on any pork craving you may ever have.) This is especially exciting because the last time I was home, my mother sent me back to Ann Arbor with an entire cooler full of pork. Yeah, she's like that?
Yesterday Mark and I drove his motorcycle to his folks' house for father's day. His entire family (which consists of two grown siblings who each have multiple children, plus Mark's mom, which means *lots of people*) had completely forgotten about father's day--what kind of shit is that? The majority of the family is composed of women; I bet the shit would hit the fan if someone forgot to mention mother's day. But anyway. Driving along the highway at 85 mph, the only thing between us and the road are a miniscule seat and...our leathers...maneuvering between semi-trucks and obnoxious pickup truck drivers. The wind attempting to peel my legs from their comfortable position on the foot pegs, as well as whip my head all around. Today my head and inner thighs are sore. How do the rest of you get your kicks?
I took a benadryl last night before bed. Woke up at 5 am for work bleary eyed and groggy as hell. Will never take benadryl again, unless I have 12 hours with which to sleep it off.
Emily vanished over the weekend. She said she'd be back yesterday. I don't know where she is. Maybe I should call her?
Life is good. I have mastered my job. My tomato plants are growing (although they need to be fertilized). Mark still rocks my socks off. I have two trips planned, one to Blissfest and the other to the Pictured Rocks. I should learn a new song on my guitar, maybe discover a couple new poets. And drink more beer (sangria) on my front porch, because goddamn, it's almost July.
Saturday was spent collecting an incredible assortment of fresh vegetables from the farmer's market and various other places in order to make the best damn stir fry I've ever had. And so big it wouldn't fit in the pan. I also picked up this great mini cook book at Ann Arbor recycle entirely about cooking PORK! (Pat, I am adequately prepared to take on any pork craving you may ever have.) This is especially exciting because the last time I was home, my mother sent me back to Ann Arbor with an entire cooler full of pork. Yeah, she's like that?
Yesterday Mark and I drove his motorcycle to his folks' house for father's day. His entire family (which consists of two grown siblings who each have multiple children, plus Mark's mom, which means *lots of people*) had completely forgotten about father's day--what kind of shit is that? The majority of the family is composed of women; I bet the shit would hit the fan if someone forgot to mention mother's day. But anyway. Driving along the highway at 85 mph, the only thing between us and the road are a miniscule seat and...our leathers...maneuvering between semi-trucks and obnoxious pickup truck drivers. The wind attempting to peel my legs from their comfortable position on the foot pegs, as well as whip my head all around. Today my head and inner thighs are sore. How do the rest of you get your kicks?
I took a benadryl last night before bed. Woke up at 5 am for work bleary eyed and groggy as hell. Will never take benadryl again, unless I have 12 hours with which to sleep it off.
Emily vanished over the weekend. She said she'd be back yesterday. I don't know where she is. Maybe I should call her?
Life is good. I have mastered my job. My tomato plants are growing (although they need to be fertilized). Mark still rocks my socks off. I have two trips planned, one to Blissfest and the other to the Pictured Rocks. I should learn a new song on my guitar, maybe discover a couple new poets. And drink more beer (sangria) on my front porch, because goddamn, it's almost July.