There was something this week that I was enjoying–food, I don’t doubt–so much that I was thinking, “I ought to blog about this.” I forgot what it was. Now you get this. A blog about something I forgot. Which made me think about how much more efficient I am at remembering to do lists, things that annoy me and people I dislike, than I am at focusing on the good in life and others, however fleeting it is or hard to uncover.

Anyway, we’re going to San Diego today, which is wicked fun, except for having to miss dance. The lobby of the hotel will probably have a nice slippery floor, so maybe we can have a dance party there. And they won’t mind, because the customer is always right, and this customer wants to dance.

If you’ve never watched a Laker game with Robert, you haven’t lived. Or sworn.

We are growing tomatoes and they are coming along just smashingly. Sometimes literally, cuz a few get mushy and they’re fun to smash.

In a deductive vein, babies, particularly super-cute nephews, can tell me where their and my noses are, and where their ears and belly buttons are, but when you try to feed them ‘Chicken and Vegetables Dinner,’ they throw it around like they don’t know where their mouth is, and I secretly suspect they do know.

I am planning to eat a donut in the next 48 hours, specifically a glazed old fashioned.

I am not at work today. Booyah.

Congratulations to all beginners who narrowly survived their first-ever swing dance lesson! Hope you had fun. For those interested in cheap, dance shoe conversions, we’re gonna visit a leather shop in Fountain Valley this week and learn about gluing leather onto Keds and tennis shoes for low low prices. If cheap enough, will pick up some spare leathers for ya’ll. Hurray!

Jason Parks–Churrolandia is the AWESOME! Bavarian Creme-Filled Churros are the straight up, deliciousness-punches-you-in-the-face winner. Hurray!

Weather = fantastic today. Like a cool day in Hawaii. Hurray!

Now I’m gonna study for a while. Not hurray.

I fed our local itinerant hobo bunny until he was chock full of apple, and then he let me pet him. Now he’s sleeping in the shade in our backyard.

I got a bunch of pork for a BBQ tomorrow. The butcher gave me a hard time about my limited meat knowledge. No, of course the pork shoulder roasts didn’t come bone out. Yes, she could be troubled to remove the bone (which took 30 seconds). Was I aware this would cost me more money ($1.49/lb instead of $.99)? I find now, as always, that I don’t particularly need any condescension from people wearing plastic aprons. In the end, I’ve got a bunch of meat. Don’t recall the actual poundage, but I’d say it’s about two sleeping bunnies worth.

The rub for the pork calls for bourbon. I never bought bourbon before. Turns out it’s just whiskey with a superiority complex. ooooOOOOoooh. I come from Bourbon County Kentucky. OOOooooh. Aren’t I special. Suckers. I bought JD, which is from Tennessee. I’m a rule breaker all right. Most of the bottle left, so we’ll just have to drink it all sometime. Ha. Stuff smells awful. I know, I spilled a bunch all over my kitchen. Which is why my house smells like the deep south. That and the tobacco crop I’m drying in the dining room.

New swing series starts week of the 25th, Mondays at 9am and Fridays at 7:30. Let me know if you’re interested.

Overheard on the Aerial Tram in Palm Springs.

British guy (very British, voice dripping with disdainful smugness and a cultured pretension several centuries in the making), to the British guy next to him: They don’t really DO food in this country, do they? I mean, it’s just the same burger place one after another.

Really British? Really? Americans don’t do food? This from the nation which has provided the world with such wondrous culinary inventions as “Brown Stuff with Gray Sauce” and potatoes with sausage. Or sausage. And let’s call it a “Banger” just to make it snappy!!!! AND SPOTTED DICK!!!! Really?!?!? Maybe if there wasn’t anything except a hamburger patty drenched in off-white gravy goo…

Went to an indian casino in Palm Springs for lunch today. Paul put $2 in a deuces wild poker machine. I bet 25 cents and got dealt a straight flush and made three bucks (a profit of 1200%). I cashed out immediately and later spent my winnings on a pretty beverage at the top of the aerial tram. Hahahahaha. Stick it to the (casino) man.

Several years ago, we started writing down amusing phrases as proferred by witty friends and family. This maybe have represented a reprisal of a “Book of Funny Things” Paul made for Lori in 1998 so she could record hilarious things he said. She never wrote anything in it.

So occasionally we tack up a few good one-liners we’d like to remember on our fridge. Two for you today, only one of which requires explanation: No one in scenario the first is a racist. Someone is, though, a master of utterly random humor. C.L., I’ll delete this post if it embarrasses you.

Someone at In-N-Out (I can’t remember who) making unrequested moral judgments about C.L.’s side dish order : I don’t really like “Animal Style” fries.

C. L. : Yeah? Well I don’t really like black people.

From 4/12/2009, Paul describing I can’t really remember what:

“It’s funky…like your grandma’s monkey.”

In finishing up my preparations for the upcoming exam, I have had opportunity to realize that courage is not a trait of which I possess massive amounts. Maybe that’s the point, maybe no one comes by it easily. It’s a thing to be decided on and stuck to against your fears and against opposition. That’s what makes it, well, courageous.

But I also wonder if this isn’t a value which we hear about much less frequently in our generation and times. Authenticity, needs gratification, pluralism, and a bunch of other hyper-pychotherappy buzz words/values seem cool and acceptable, but courage rarely makes an appearance on the scene, except dressed in caricature as a reckless belligerent or fool. Courage seems gauche and, worst of all, insensitive. It dares to engage in non-PC acts such as being confident in the pursuit of an objective with which others might disagree. It dares to stop worrying about feelings, and to act according to conscience. It knows when to stop listening to the little groups of naysayers and when to make an advance.

Not sure what that has to do with test anxiety really, except to say that there’s no risk to courage. So why not be bold?

Summer adds enjoyment to things. I’m at home studying for licensure exam (T-minus 9 days) with the tiny bedroom air conditioner on, drinking a diet DP, and thinking my life ain’t half bad. As with most good things, I am never quite sure whether it is the actuality or the anticipation I enjoy more. A warm day conjures up memories of 4th of July BBQ’s (I didn’t get to attend the Yost’s last year due to internship! Am overdue), dinner on the back porch, bocce and washer toss, swimmin’ pools, days at the beach, BIKERIDES (marauding herds of beach cruisers), chats over FroYo, late night puzzle composition parties, and glasses of frosty beverages on porches. I’m realizing as I type that I didn’t just miss one BBQ last summer. In reality, we spent all of our best socializing months last year solo in SD. Lots of folks visited, but it just wasn’t the same. A worthwhile price to pay for the opportunity to finish the degree, and finish well, but it means I’ve got at least two summers’ worth of fun to have in the company of friends and family. Maybe I’m nostalgic because Pandora is playing “In the Waiting Line” by Zero 7 (you’ll recognize it, not sure from where), or maybe because–keep your hair on–this is the first summer in my entire life (if you don’t count before age 3) during which I will be completely free from the demands of school. No dissertation marring my freedom, or fall classes to haunt my relaxation. Just good clean summer. Which is a freedom and feeling I find difficult to describe, but I’m pretty sure it feels like cold lemonade by a pool. It’s summer, dammit, once and for all.

When he was at the table with them, he took bread, gave thanks, broke it and began to give it to them. Then their eyes were opened and they recognized him, and he disappeared from their sight. They asked each other, “Were not our hearts burning within us while he talked with us on the road and opened the Scriptures to us?”

They got up and returned at once to Jerusalem. There they found the Eleven and those with them, assembled together and saying, “It is true! The Lord has risen and has appeared to Simon.” Then the two told what had happened on the way, and how Jesus was recognized by them when he broke the bread.

To the God who breaks bread with us, breaks our expectations, and breaks with changing power into our lives we give praise.