2005-04-21 - 5:09 p.m.
My Unitarian Jihad Name is: Brother Sword of Love and Mercy.
Not much happening around here. It’s a cascade, a cavalcade, a parade of same, same, same, same. I get up, exercise, eat, go to work, come home, eat, play with the Professor or run errands, then go to bed. Weekends are about the same, except for the work part. I haven’t done anything interesting or creative, except some cooking here and there. With J being pregnant, the cooking gets to be somewhat limited. There are times when the sight or smell of cooking food makes her nauseous. That’s when we have sandwiches, or takeout. When I do cook, it tends to be very basic stuff. I can’t get too creative, lest I be banished to another room to eat. The very sight of a bowl of chili-mac will set her off. I shouldn’t find her reactions amusing, but I do. I’m very sympathetic to her condition and everything that’s going on, but I occasionally indulge my schadenfreude.
(Just to give some perspective, this is the woman who delights in watching me hunt for the car keys when she knows she has them. Once she kept me going for five minutes, insisting that I had the keys, then finally producing them from her purse. I love her dearly, but there’s a streak of eeeevil in that woman.)
In homage to the spring, we bought a new barbecue grill. The old Weber was starting to rust out at the bottom, and one of the legs had collapsed. This one is bigger, and it’s got a nifty ash-catcher at the bottom. I baptized it with a couple pounds of point-cut brisket and a goodly chunk of hickory last Sunday. Some tater salad and coleslaw, a little Bosnian bread, and we had perfect springtime. It was especially good when served on the new lawn furniture. Yeah, cheap plastic table and chairs, but good and sturdy nonetheless. The only thing missing was a good frosty beer, which I had forgotten to pick up. Oh well.
That tendon problem I mentioned a couple posts back turned out to be a joint inflammation. I’ve been wearing a brace on my left hand for the last couple of weeks. It’s amazing how many people have asked me if I was in a bar fight. My response is usually, “Yeah, you should see the other guy… not a scratch on him!”
In short, life as usual. Reading a lot of Stephen King and Carl Hiaasen, listening to a metric earload of Warren Zevon, riding the bus and regruntling the disgruntled for a living. Maybe one of these days I’ll be able to develop a social life. (Perhaps when the children are grown...)
