Right. I am still kicking over here. How many times can I say that work is nuts? I think I have hit the limit, so I will stop with that.
I have been reading David Foster Wallace essays lately. His fiction makes me feel incredibly stupid so I avoid it at all costs, but his essays leave me lying on the couch giggling so hard that B comes in to make sure that I haven't gone completely off the deep end. So now I am sad all over again that he had to go and knock himself off. Fucker.
Jane Goodall on John Stewart. Seriously, I just love putting eyes on the woman, but I completely cringed through the entire interview. We love us some John Stewart, but he is such a terrible interviewer, and this had to be one of his worst. When he told her at the end that she was a wonderful person I nearly died. I suggested that she stab him with her condor feather, but she did not hear me through the intertubes.
Pears. B and I have taken to buying one Bartlett pear each week at the grocery store. Just one. It is cosseted through the entire shopping process, and I literally carry it home in my hand because you can't throw a pear in a shopping satchel with sharp milk cartons and hard jars and whatever, you just can't. It sits on the counter for two and a half days, and then on Tuesday night we have a pear for dessert. It seriously blows our minds every time. A good pear, at least if you are asking me right now, kicks the ass of any apple or peach or plum or orange or whatever. These pears taste like a thousand wildflowers - nectar and honey and sunshine and every summer scent that is sweet. We can't buy more than one pear, because if there is anything to know about a pear, it's that it must be eaten at exactly the right moment. With Bartletts, I think that this is just a hairsbreadth on the side of unripe. A hairsbreadth. One nudge in the wrong direction and the texture will be mealy. No good. Also, I believe you should eat a pear with a knife. Now you know how I feel about pears, and maybe you should pick one up soon and have some summer in your mouth.
We are getting a land line. We are ridiculously excited about this, as two cell-phones-off-and-at-the-bottom-of-a-bag-anyway kind of people. For example, it bothers me that we don't talk to each other's friends and family very often, not because we aren't extremely fond of all our people but rather because my best friend is going to call my cell phone, duh. Plus I hate the cell phone hiccup delay thingie that makes normal people interrupt one another. So, now we will have emergency cell phones and a real phone for all our people to call. That is when the telephone people get it working, because of course it didn't just work when we plugged the phone in.
And that, I believe, is the news. Oh wait, I learned another completely kickass fiddle tune, complete with a tricky many fingered chord bow rock thingie that makes me stupid happy.
Wednesday, November 18, 2009
Posted by Heather at 9:03 AM