October 2nd, 2006


Too. Early.

Here's the thing about having all the grocery shopping done by 6:00 a.m.: apparently the bit of my brain that goes, "Ooooh, shiny!" is much more active between 4:30 and 6:00. (This is probably to compensate for the 4-5:30 p.m. time, when nothing whatever is shiny. The problem is that I try not to be awake 4:30-6 a.m., and I almost always have to be awake 4-5:30 p.m.) So I had to wrestle my hindbrain into not buying a "graffiti eggplant." The forebrain thought processes went like this: no one in the house loves eggplant, and I'm the only one who even likes it a little. I am unlikely to make myself a spontaneous eggplant for breakfast. Therefore the eggplant should stay in the store. The hindbrain thought processes went like this: it has stripes. It is a racing eggplant.

The brain compromised on some tomatillos (forebrain: I can put those in a sauce for with eggs; hindbrain: ooh, crinkly!).

Grocery people once again mistook my physics T-shirt for a sorority T-shirt, but this has been happening for years now; I'm used to it. (* is not a Greek letter, people! Psi, yes, but *, no!)

To add insult to injury, I awoke before the 4:50 alarm, because I was just so hungry. Not fair. I had dinner last night. I had ice cream in the middle of the evening. But 4:30, there I was, ready to gnaw markgritter's leg while he slept, so I got up. Sigh. Don't know what to do about this (other than getting up and eating breakfast).

Anyway, markgritter has been successfully taken to the airport, and the groceries are bought and put away, and that, as they say, is that. Maybe there will be a nap. One lives in hope.

"That'll teach me to measure things."

me: I have no idea why Habitat for Humanity sent us this tape measure, but on the other hand, now we can know how big your head is. [measuring] That can't be right.

timprov: I don't know if it can -- I can't see it.

me: [measuring again, giggling copiously] Your head is about an inch less around than my waist. Well, that'll teach me to measure things.

timprov: Put that on livejournal.

me: You sure you want that open to the world?

timprov: I don't see why I wouldn't. Everybody knows I have a big head.

So, as requested. He really is not lacking in noggin. But soon it will be the season of the John Popper hat, and all will be well.

results of tired brain

In case my last post -- which, due to the wonders of lj, will be my next post for most of you, unless you were reading at just the right time -- did not make it clear, I am still tired. The brain is not going particularly linearly.

I'm not sure that's an excuse for being hip-deep in a short story called "Uncle Flower's Homecoming Waltz," but it's all the excuse I have.

Possibly I could blame my upbringing. Hmm. That's always a fruitful tactic, and in this case it might even be justifiable. The people who raised me on folk songs and Jethro Tull Have Much To Answer For.

I have considered retitling this lj, "Force of Nurture." But I've also considered retitling it, "Get Off Me, I'm From Minnesota" (rejected due to unfriendliness) and "Still Kicking, No Daylight Yet," which only makes sense if you know one of the incarnations of "Lovers in a Dangerous Time" and isn't all that cheerful if you do. And I am, as we all know, a bloody-minded optimist.

Hmm. Perhaps "Pool of Congealing Daylight" is more like it.

Aaaaand perhaps I should go attempt to nap again, it having reached the fateful 4:00 hour when things look Worse, or sometimes just Sillier, and in either case get Capitalized more.