(no subject)
Last night I had one of the better meals I've had in quite sometime. Nic and I went to the Bulgogi House over by West Hall, and it was really, really good. I had udon, which is a little uncharacteristic of me, I'm usually not a fan, but it sounded good. I got a steamy bowl of soup filled with noodles and seafood (a clam and mussel still with shells, shrimp, calamari, and a chewy little nugget of octopus), with veggies and (I believe) a dashi-based broth. Nic got stir fried beef, and we got dishes of kimchi, some sweet and spicy tofu, and pickled ginger. Unfortunately, the ginger had aspartame in it, but the kimchi was really good; Nic said "wow, it doesn't even smell like a dirty diaper!" My one real complaint: metal chopsticks. While generally quite adept with chopsticks, I couldn't for the life of me get these to cooperate with me and had to resist the urge to spear the dumplings instead.
I feel dull as of late - very much in the same old, same old. I grab a beer or three every now and then with the ladies. I drink coffee. I go to work. I cook food. I eat at Ruby's on the weekends. Last weekend, I made a pho pilgrimage and picked up some Mr. Brown's coffee, some veggies and fruits (including Mt. Ranier cherries for $2/pound), and some noodles at the Vietnamese grocery across from the pho place. I finally did laundry. I talk to my family when I can. I sweat - Denton has gotten friggin' hot and the boy's AC is out. I hang out with the boy and we watch Food Network together and drink beer out of cans and sit around sweating. I'm broke. I have less than 30 hours left at the current jobby job.
This started out as the summer of transitions but it seems to have petered out. My sister took off for Alaska and I decided to get a new job. Kat got her promotion. But now things went back to feeling the same, even the same as summers before, down to the sitting out on the patio and the smell and sound of a window unit running all the time. The air got hot and steamy and Denton slowed down; everything feels the same. But the changes are still coming: my job will change and I'll have to remember how to be a graphic designer, and Joe and Kat will be in Oregon before too long. Not long after that, Shelley and Ian return to Texas. My sister is still in Alaska, but it's gotten to where I'm the one complaining about the weather and she tells me how awesome it is up north.
And before too long, I'm going to buy a new pair of sheets. I haven't bought a new set of sheets in years.
I feel dull as of late - very much in the same old, same old. I grab a beer or three every now and then with the ladies. I drink coffee. I go to work. I cook food. I eat at Ruby's on the weekends. Last weekend, I made a pho pilgrimage and picked up some Mr. Brown's coffee, some veggies and fruits (including Mt. Ranier cherries for $2/pound), and some noodles at the Vietnamese grocery across from the pho place. I finally did laundry. I talk to my family when I can. I sweat - Denton has gotten friggin' hot and the boy's AC is out. I hang out with the boy and we watch Food Network together and drink beer out of cans and sit around sweating. I'm broke. I have less than 30 hours left at the current jobby job.
This started out as the summer of transitions but it seems to have petered out. My sister took off for Alaska and I decided to get a new job. Kat got her promotion. But now things went back to feeling the same, even the same as summers before, down to the sitting out on the patio and the smell and sound of a window unit running all the time. The air got hot and steamy and Denton slowed down; everything feels the same. But the changes are still coming: my job will change and I'll have to remember how to be a graphic designer, and Joe and Kat will be in Oregon before too long. Not long after that, Shelley and Ian return to Texas. My sister is still in Alaska, but it's gotten to where I'm the one complaining about the weather and she tells me how awesome it is up north.
And before too long, I'm going to buy a new pair of sheets. I haven't bought a new set of sheets in years.