CANCER (June 21-July 22):
Welcome to Part Two of your outlook for the second half of 2008, Cancerian. We're checking up on how well you're progressing with the challenges you were given near the end of last year. Here's one of the most important things I hope you're doing: getting clear about which of the influences in your life encourage you toward mediocrity, and which influences, on the other hand, nudge you in the direction of mastery. There's a second crucial lesson that's related to the first: getting clear about which people have low expectations and distorted images of you, and which people, on the other hand, want the best for you and see you for who you really are.
I like that, and I like when I like stuff like that. It's information for me right there.
And Rob's such a Cancer, writing that one. ;)
This evening I made the Carribean potato salad Alex at work spoke of when we saw, during the gathering with bagels for the purpose of welcoming back disclaimerwill (woo-hoo!) (his return, let me pause here to say, is weird & great & also oddly ordinary-feeling, & i find myself already trying not to get too used to him, cuz it's gonna hurt all over again if he does indeed leave us, as the plan has it, a second time) (and for the same woman!! haha), . . . uh . . . ---the potato salad Alex spoke of when we saw a buncha cilantro, along with a bunch of dill, up for grabs in the kitchen. This salad is good stuff, just like the woman said. It's russet & sweet potato hunks with chopped cucumber and a little corn (I cut mine off the cob--- ooo la la, eh?) and thinly-sliced red onion in a dressing made with lime juice & cilantro & mustard & oil & salt & pepper. And then you add some chopped peanuts right before serving.
While I was cooking I was listening to some herpetologist on "The World" telling about being bitten by a snake in Vietnam. That was cool, believe it or not.
So was that I was cooking. And doing so after a major round around the gym and the dilly-dallying grocery shopping to get the ingredients. I think I'm going to sleep well tonight.
scrawlspace---who reminded me today that i oughta go read the winesburg, ohio stories now that i'm a grown-up, but i've just gotten riddley walker out of the library, also because of her talking about it ("arga-warga" and "trubba not" to you all) (no, it's not the "walker: texas ranger" walker)---declared that she was buying a lottery ticket today. so i went in with her on a 2-ticket syndicate. a coupla people nearby liked that idea too, and now we are four. except scrawlspace is getting extras of her own, to improve her odds, which i said was silly cuz if god wants to bestow the bucks on me it might even be insulting to Her if i think i've got to improve my own odds in some paltry way. besides, throwing away $1 seems better than throwing away 5.
i'm actually anti-lottery at heart. or in mind, in a way that feels like heart. it's not just cuz the odds suck so much; it's cuz it's a crock that works to perpetuate the gap between the haves and the have-lesses. it's a political issue. we should boycott it. but here i go falling down on the job of sticking with that principle.
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i seem to've lost my uppercasing somewhere. if you find it behind your couch, let me know. i'm not ready to wear it again right now but it's nice to know it's around if i want it.
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shmizla comes back in a few days. blows me away, chatting with her from halfway around the world. alright it's not halfway, but it might as well be. being able to speak on the phone from the same distance doesn't even strike me as mildly surprising. it's messaging. i dunno. i like it.
i've got some potential romantic weirdness hanging over me. think i oughta make that friends-only, if i talk about it here? again, i dunno. in the wise words of aaron neville, dunno much. sometimes i feel as if i let ya'll in on way too much. sometimes i feel i barely say anything.
i don't like friends-only, though, so much any more.
shoot, how'd it get to be 1 in the morning.