Not the day one might like to have
Aug. 14th, 2009 10:01 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
thanateFor reasons that are irritating, complicated, and probably not worth going into, I am on call today as transportation, so there will be no spontaneous wandering to points unknown. Not to say that their usually is, but it's good to get these things sorted out in advance. There may be experimentation with jointing system 2.0, however; we shall see.
The naan (from The Joy of Cooking's recipe) was a hit (and I finished the last of it for breakfast this morning), although next time I think it might be useful to get the rolling pin out of the box in the basement where it's currently living with all the pots that haven't been washed yet since there isn't any cabinet space for them. My hands make inferior rolling pins, which leads to lumpy bread.
I had an elaborate dream last night in which I wrote and essay on a very late-19th-century style of short story as the last portion of something resembling a standardized test. I was subsequently pulled aside by someone (working as part of a team out of a trailer-office on the far side of the battlefield at Pennsic, no less) who had me do an extemporaneous recap of my essay for an audio recording, because I had won some sort of prize for writing the best essay. What the prize was exactly was unclear, and after that (and some pithy observations on my part about moralism and heavy-handed historic prose, which may or may not actually apply in reality) the dream degenerated into confusion and me waking up.
However, the mail has just been delivered, and in it was a mysterious package addressed to me, containing an extensive hand-out from one of the classes I took at Pennsic. I debate whether it would be appropriate to send a thank-you note with an enclosure to cover the cost of postage.
The naan (from The Joy of Cooking's recipe) was a hit (and I finished the last of it for breakfast this morning), although next time I think it might be useful to get the rolling pin out of the box in the basement where it's currently living with all the pots that haven't been washed yet since there isn't any cabinet space for them. My hands make inferior rolling pins, which leads to lumpy bread.
I had an elaborate dream last night in which I wrote and essay on a very late-19th-century style of short story as the last portion of something resembling a standardized test. I was subsequently pulled aside by someone (working as part of a team out of a trailer-office on the far side of the battlefield at Pennsic, no less) who had me do an extemporaneous recap of my essay for an audio recording, because I had won some sort of prize for writing the best essay. What the prize was exactly was unclear, and after that (and some pithy observations on my part about moralism and heavy-handed historic prose, which may or may not actually apply in reality) the dream degenerated into confusion and me waking up.
However, the mail has just been delivered, and in it was a mysterious package addressed to me, containing an extensive hand-out from one of the classes I took at Pennsic. I debate whether it would be appropriate to send a thank-you note with an enclosure to cover the cost of postage.