Thursday, July 21, 2011

early thursday morning and the plague of capital letters

I wore closed-toe shoes to work yesterday and they made blisters on 4 of my toes. Don't wear shoes without socks is the lesson, I think.

We had Bob and Emily and three little kids over for dinner last night. It was nice enough that we could cook on the grill although Bob, who works outside in the heat all day, was more than happy to enjoy the AC comfort of the indoors. I brought home a loaf of River Rock's Buckwheat Bread and the kids loved it.

I have to sit down and think about the capital letter rules for my River Rock writing. I find myself sprinkling capital letters randomly here and there. If the cooks give me a menu item like this: Signature Something or Other, then I tend to keep that as it's official and capitalized name. I'm not sure how that should go. Ideas? Yeah, I should have has all the answers.

My doctor, who has taken care of me for 15 years, is retiring. I'm glad for her and sad for me. I've had about four doctors in my whole adult life and I always feel a little abandoned when I have to switch. Dang.

I still have a pile of thank you notes to write for retirement gifts and such. I am a slug. I finally wrote a letter of recommendation for a teacher friend but he had to call and nag me twice. Not good. I hope nobody else asks me to write any education-related stuff because that language has already been replaced in my head with words like savory, seasonal, and organic. Unless they want to be described in those terms, they should probably leave me off the reference list.

I have been searching my dusty and vacant shelves of memory this morning for something I heard about yesterday, adults feeling sad about things they said or did as children. I read something in the last month related to this emotion but I have the tiniest twinge of a memory of it...can't recall where I read it, who wrote it, or the exact details. Snap.

I'm reading a wonderful book called To Siberia by Per Petterson. He wrote Out Stealing Horses and when I read it, I immediately turned to the first page and read it again. This book is like that, too. It's a book of painful things like suicide and Nazis but the writing is so lyrical that you feel like you're floating down a lazy river. Beautiful sentences. The article in the link is interesting as a family tragedy influenced his writing after 1990.

I'm ready to go to the Pulse but I'm not too motivated this morning. Ah, hell, motivation is a myth. Nobody feels too motivated. You just do it. I had an interesting conversation with my friend Kris yesterday about counting. She said counting makes you crazy and feel guilty about not doing enough. A zen way of thinking.

We were invited to dinner tonight by some young friends. We met them on the wine trip two years ago and have enjoyed their company. It will be fun.

Off to start the day.

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