Thursday, January 24, 2013


I know, lots of cat pictures. Some of you will disagree, but I do not think I am a crazy cat lady. I know better than to have more than two. And although I have some cat artificats, I try to eschew anything too cute. Who knows? Perhaps this is just another self-image issue about which I am delusional.

Meanwhile, still not feeling well, worst day in a couple, although I am giantly grooving to the dulcet sounds of Chief Stephen Osita Osadebe and his Nigerian Soundmakers. (Here's a link if you want to download and hear for yourself.)

My cats are sitting around me looking expectantly but I have no idea at what. Unless they are focussed on getting more Greenies Treats. Cooder has a significant addiction problem here. It is a bit hard to deny her because she is old and cute and her Greenies days are numbered. Maybe they think it is bedtime. I just figure I won't sleep even if I head in that direction, but perhaps I can do some more reading.

Somehow, in my stupor, I ended up making biscuits from scratch, two pizzas, and baked another batch of those sour cream-lime cookies. And then made too much orange-toasted coconut frosting so that there is quite a bit left over. I managed to only eat two.

Sorry I am nattering and thank you for bearing with me. I am somewhat absent-minded.

The next Tom Bissell essay is about the making of a film in his hometown. The article muses on the divide between the Movie People and the townsfolk, as well as small town versus big city life. I feel I escaped a kind of small town, although it was really more of mindless LA suburban sprawl.

In a small town, success is the simplest arithmetic there is. To achieve it, you leave—then subsequently bore your new big-city friends with accounts of your narrow escape. Indeed, when I was younger, I felt certain that what kept small-town people in their small towns was some tragic deficiency.

Olive oil, lemon thyme, black pepper, roasted squash, havarti, and parmesan pizza.

1 comment:

  1. We can while away the hours, allow depression to take it's hold, but that will not suffice or solve our dilemmas. Try reading Willliam Styron's "Darkness Visible" and you will see how much you have in common and how destructive the feeling is among all of us.