Good Stuff
Mother poem from the Velveteen Rabbi
I think this poem is wonderful. It combines beauty with deep thinking. In this case the deep thought is the fascinating idea that until a child takes its first bite, every ounce of her body came from her mother.
This thin gruel is your first step
toward strawberries warm from the sunwedges of cheddar made from grassy milk
Macs and Cortlands pressed into ciderbut once this spoon passes your lips
I have to curb mine from proclaimingI made every ounce of exuberant you,
your chubby thighs and chipmunk cheeks...Read the whole poem at Velveteen Rabbi.
Rachel, that was amazing!
How Do You Spell That?
Ever had something like this happen to you? Yesterday I lost the ability to spell the word "bowl." I was writing away, lost in my focus, feeling the words, when I suddenly needed to write the word for those containers we use to eat cereal and soup.
First I spelled it "bole," which cracked me up. So I backspaced and then wrote "boal." Of course I could tell they were both wrong. I laughed, backspaced again, and was shocked to find that I was fresh out of ideas. I couldn't imagine any other way that a person could spell this word. I tried sounding it out, but I got nothin.
So I sat there staring at "boal" and waiting for the answer to come to me. It didn't. That means there was actually a period of time yesterday where I couldn't spell bowl at all. It was utterly beyond me. I guess I had a brain fart or something. I had to right-click and pull up my spell checker to get it right.
That's weird if you ask me. My confidence is totally blown. I keep staring at "bowl" and it looks like "bowel" to me.
Okay, now that I've actually spelled "bowel," "bowl" is looking better.
I wonder if it has something to do with the fact that I'm on day four of the South Beach diet, phase one? I AM a little light headed. Who knows?
I'll tell you more about the South Beach transition to a new way of eating tomorrow. It isn't a diet! Diets are of the devil. I'm learning new ways to think about food.
And losing the ablitilty to spell.
rlp

Who Googled Me?
Last Saturday's referrer links included someone who ran a search at Google for Fucktard Nerdy Redhead Twat and somehow ended up at Real Live Preacher.
I think that's a bit odd, don't you?
I didn't even know Fucktard was a word. Google gave me 5,710 results, including a nifty quiz to determine just how much of a Fucktard you are, so I guess it IS a word. Live and learn.
Like one of Meg Ryan's characters in Joe vs. the Volcano, I have no response to Fucktard Nerdy Redhead Twat.

