a good day
Wake up. Finish Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance. Breakfast of rice pudding.
Read a nice email. Play with Ben's bullwhip out in the yard. Fail to inflict grevious injury upon myself or anyone else. Begin to have some accuracy.
Pull weeds from the garden, and find carrots. Talk about garden plans and whether I could pay rent with gardening were I to come back. Make pasta salad with leftover bowties, leftover salsa, olives, and fresh wild green onions. Play guitar in the sun. Receive a very sincere thank-you for one of my gifts.
Prepare sourdough starter. Look at heirloom seed catalogue.
Heat the wort. Add barley. Sing to the beer. Tell Ben about contra dancing, and play some dance tunes. Strain and sparge the mash in the lauter. Yes I threw those brewing terms in just because I could. And now sit back and relax before going to dance.
Edit to add: Contra dance in Nasheville is small, with many inexperienced dancers, but vital. Maybe there are college kids away on break? Last waltz was Inisheer, that made me smile a whole lot. Left the dance completely wired and in need of stimulation. Climbed a dragon and talked to strangers--Ben and I scared them, I think. Dumpstered from Panera, lots of free bread. Then on to Cafe Coco's.
Coco's is a huge house of a place, with lots of people on an outdoor deck and a separate smoking room, with a closed door. Lots of people of all types, colors, dress. Some lovely ink. I was given the address of a new tattoo place which is giving great deals by a girl whose friend works there and who got a full-calf Brian Froud scene done very nicely by him. Enoch, the barrista, starts the most nonsensiscal conversations with everyone and anyone; I caught him randomly showing his nipples to some goth girl. I slipped in and out of Ben's corner to meet new people, and eventually managed to get introduced to Grace, who invited me to an after-party aboard a veggie oil bus. The band was blitheringly smashed, but Grace was engaging (and by that I mean gorgeous and intimidatingly talented as well) and I managed to leave with her number and a Guy Fawkes mask. Then I had to drive us back.
My mind is spinning lately. Manic stage? I thought I decided I was done with that.
New Year's Eve: Firewalking party?
New Year's Day: Pillowfight, Centennial Park in Nashville, 3:00 pm.
Read a nice email. Play with Ben's bullwhip out in the yard. Fail to inflict grevious injury upon myself or anyone else. Begin to have some accuracy.
Pull weeds from the garden, and find carrots. Talk about garden plans and whether I could pay rent with gardening were I to come back. Make pasta salad with leftover bowties, leftover salsa, olives, and fresh wild green onions. Play guitar in the sun. Receive a very sincere thank-you for one of my gifts.
Prepare sourdough starter. Look at heirloom seed catalogue.
Heat the wort. Add barley. Sing to the beer. Tell Ben about contra dancing, and play some dance tunes. Strain and sparge the mash in the lauter. Yes I threw those brewing terms in just because I could. And now sit back and relax before going to dance.
Edit to add: Contra dance in Nasheville is small, with many inexperienced dancers, but vital. Maybe there are college kids away on break? Last waltz was Inisheer, that made me smile a whole lot. Left the dance completely wired and in need of stimulation. Climbed a dragon and talked to strangers--Ben and I scared them, I think. Dumpstered from Panera, lots of free bread. Then on to Cafe Coco's.
Coco's is a huge house of a place, with lots of people on an outdoor deck and a separate smoking room, with a closed door. Lots of people of all types, colors, dress. Some lovely ink. I was given the address of a new tattoo place which is giving great deals by a girl whose friend works there and who got a full-calf Brian Froud scene done very nicely by him. Enoch, the barrista, starts the most nonsensiscal conversations with everyone and anyone; I caught him randomly showing his nipples to some goth girl. I slipped in and out of Ben's corner to meet new people, and eventually managed to get introduced to Grace, who invited me to an after-party aboard a veggie oil bus. The band was blitheringly smashed, but Grace was engaging (and by that I mean gorgeous and intimidatingly talented as well) and I managed to leave with her number and a Guy Fawkes mask. Then I had to drive us back.
My mind is spinning lately. Manic stage? I thought I decided I was done with that.
New Year's Eve: Firewalking party?
New Year's Day: Pillowfight, Centennial Park in Nashville, 3:00 pm.