2009-06-04 - 2:59 p.m.
..a bowlful of avocados, pink, and shiny happy people...
I was eating an avocado this morning, and DAMN was it good. I love avocados. We didn't get many good avocados on this trip, so yeah, sometimes it pays to be closer to the source. And now I'm thinking, MAN! Even these avocados that I'm eating here have already traveled several thousand kilometers, from California or Mexico.
I wonder what an avocado straight off the tree tastes like. It would either be ecstasy or disappointment. I'm guessin' ecstasy, but also thinking that there's the possibility of MSS: maple syrup syndrome. I grew up on cheap colored artificially flavored corn syrup, and now I can't really appreciate the true goodness of maple syrup, except in theory. It's wasted on me. Don't despair. It means more for the rest of you.
But anyway, now I think one of my life goals is to pick an avocado right off the tree and eat it. I'm bankin' on ecstasy.
Getting in touch with my Inner Pink.
I've tried to avoid the pink plastic baby lace palace that inevitably comes with baby girls. It's in check. Sort of. The thing is, the kid just LOOKS good in pink. She really does. Put that pink sun hat on her little blonde head, strap it under her chin, and have her look up at you with those gigantic blue eyes. Then try not to melt. It's pretty darned hard. The girl was meant for pink.
Come to think of it, so was I. After years of denial it's time to confess that I look good in pink, too. I do. Causes those big round cheeks of mine to go all rosy and cherubic. So, this week I've decided to get in touch with my inner pink. And in searching my pink soul, I've decided that my inner pink is a Pink with Balls. None of this "quelle pastelle" nonsense. Wear a pink that says, "PINK! DAMMIT!" That's me. And I'm comfortable with this. So bring it on.
Shiny Happy Music.
Fortunately, I've just returned from holiday. I've spent the last two days writing up administrative reports that explain what I've done for research in the maple leaf country. Two days of compiling numbers, describing research, highlighting successes, and basically doing the document sit-n-spin. After the third time of answering the same questions in the same way, I begin to lose my sense of humor. And THEN, my computer is infected with a little trojan horse. And now two days of re-installing the system. It's a REALLY good thing that this all happened right after a holiday.
My holiday reserves of humor are being chipped away. That is, until I make my way up the Drive in scorching heat, and turn the corner into our back alley - and hear SUPER TROUPER blasting out of the top floor window of an apartment over the French-Korean bakery on the corner. That apartment has got to be MISERABLE in this heat! But they are playing ABBA. Can't help but to sing along and sway my arms as I haul myself and my laptop back to my door.
Next day. Same heat. Same end-of-day drudgery. What do I hear when I turn the corner? The dulcet tones of ELLA FITZGERALD. A breeze rustles through my skirt and suddenly it doesn't feel so hot. I smile again.
Do these people KNOW me? How do they know my record collection?? I think about putting an ad on the list of craig:
Dear ABBA-LOVER above the Bakery,
I've decided that I need to get back to my old music habit: Five o'clock rolls around. The building empties (ok, in the case of this department, no one was ever here..). I put on one song - just one selection of Shiny Happy Music to buoy me for the ride home.
Yeah. I'm thinking up that playlist right now...
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...they are just words, Suzi... - 2011-08-29