Okay now. Where was I?
Oh yeah..men of cross, my kitchen remodel, my training, photography, salsa dancing. I think I'm going to do some things for me for a little while. And the men of cross post is first on the list.
Right after my ride.
And some blurbs~
~Its Christmas, you're stressed and rushed, but its no reason to treat the retail folks like shit. Act with some grace.
~Our cat has pretty much taken over the house. I suppose it was bound to happen.
~Has anyone seen Jeni?
~I get so many hang up calls that I don't check my answering machine anymore. I just noticed that its blinking 32. If you called, and left a message, I will probably never hear it.
~We hired a housecleaner. She's getting a raise already. Holy moley that is a worthwhile decadence. I could kiss her. She even made those little triangle folds with the ends of the toilet paper. I started doing that at work out of boredom.
~I just took a Myers Briggs test. I'm an architect. I don't want to be an architect.
~I need a dictaphone. But it needs to be a very small dictaphone so that I can use it while riding. Thats when I have my most brilliant (if I don't say so myself) thoughts and blog ideas. Especially during those times of tranquil suffering. Oh how the mind opens up and freely associates. Goes places you would normally stop it from going. But, the thoughts are like a morning dream. As soon as you leave the suffering, the thoughts perch on the tip of your tongue, and then slowly fade. Plus, I would love to be able to say dictaphone a lot.
~Tranquil suffering is that place just below real suffering. Sort of like Alpha sleep. Its not really sleep, but it feels a little like it. In real suffering..no thoughts happen there. And if they do, they are only of the most primitive sort. Grunts of survival. That wouldn't make a very good blog post.
~Of course, this is all just on the bike suffering. What do most of us know of real suffering?
~NonAlcoholic beer is straight up nasty.
~Tailwinds are made by the wings of angels. Corny but true. I'm telling you.
~Damn, we're out of eggs.
~I'm your huckleberry.