(no subject)
Okay. 300 words comin' up. In less than half an hour. Totally doable. Totally.
Today was: my violin lesson, drumming till my fingers were bruised little cucumbers of pain, attempting to catch up on my FPS research, watching Stomp for the third time instead, the BEST OMELET EVER, FPS at the totally splendiferous new library in Kalona, chai and some magical oatmeal pie of cinnamony delight, drawing bad but happifying pictures with my new colored pencils, and the drum jam in Fairfield.
Pretty girls are the devil, by the way. Uh huh, that's right. Once they pass a certain point of beauteousness, their hearts become pure darkness. PURE. DARKNESS.
Not that I'm bitter. Not even a little bit.
13 minutes and counting. Trying so hard not to resort to gibberish. Soooo haaaaard...
The drum jam was fun tonight. Got some serious trance mojo workin', yo. Towards the end, some of the really good drummers came in and sort of stole the show (as in, went off in their own little circle and left us novices totally in the dust), which was interesting to listen to but not much fun to play along with. Enh. Fairfielders. The Iowa City drum jam is this Wednesday. I'm going to give my thumbs a vacation for a few days and maybe by then they'll forget any past abuse and agree to come along.
Pants is at No Shame tonight, yet another late-night funfest of spiffyness that I cannot be part of. I am so NOT filled with resentment and envy. Not at ALL.
I think, this summer, if we manage to finish our cob oven, we should try to convince the county or whatever to let us build a community cob oven in the park or square. People could volunteer to help, and then people could come bring their bread or cookies or even frozen pizza and bake it in a beautiful, all-natural rustic outdoor oven thing. Totally. And then in the fall, maybe we could even get Adin out there making homemade pizzas for the restaurant and selling them at the Farmer's Market. Oh yeah.
Today was: my violin lesson, drumming till my fingers were bruised little cucumbers of pain, attempting to catch up on my FPS research, watching Stomp for the third time instead, the BEST OMELET EVER, FPS at the totally splendiferous new library in Kalona, chai and some magical oatmeal pie of cinnamony delight, drawing bad but happifying pictures with my new colored pencils, and the drum jam in Fairfield.
Pretty girls are the devil, by the way. Uh huh, that's right. Once they pass a certain point of beauteousness, their hearts become pure darkness. PURE. DARKNESS.
Not that I'm bitter. Not even a little bit.
13 minutes and counting. Trying so hard not to resort to gibberish. Soooo haaaaard...
The drum jam was fun tonight. Got some serious trance mojo workin', yo. Towards the end, some of the really good drummers came in and sort of stole the show (as in, went off in their own little circle and left us novices totally in the dust), which was interesting to listen to but not much fun to play along with. Enh. Fairfielders. The Iowa City drum jam is this Wednesday. I'm going to give my thumbs a vacation for a few days and maybe by then they'll forget any past abuse and agree to come along.
Pants is at No Shame tonight, yet another late-night funfest of spiffyness that I cannot be part of. I am so NOT filled with resentment and envy. Not at ALL.
I think, this summer, if we manage to finish our cob oven, we should try to convince the county or whatever to let us build a community cob oven in the park or square. People could volunteer to help, and then people could come bring their bread or cookies or even frozen pizza and bake it in a beautiful, all-natural rustic outdoor oven thing. Totally. And then in the fall, maybe we could even get Adin out there making homemade pizzas for the restaurant and selling them at the Farmer's Market. Oh yeah.