J-Lo moved away today. I have not known a One Great City! without him. From the first day of planning school until today, it's been me, B and J-Lo.
This is going to be an adjustment.
He just called from Planners' Dream City airport, for no reason other than we just normally call one another a lot, on his way to his new home town.
He and B were watching this the other day:
Many laughs.
I miss him.
Sunday, 23 November 2008
Thursday, 20 November 2008
The re-graping of the raisin
I feel like I'm burning out. All week I've eaten breakfast and lunch that's been ordered, by me, for a four-day training session at work. Even though it's relatively healthy food, I just don't feel like myself at all. One or two meals a week prepared outside of a home is about all I can handle before I just stop thinking properly. Enough already with the sugary dainties and oily muffins and salads that overdo the sweet/savoury mix!
Raisins. They have a place, but maybe not in a salad. Would you wrap a raisin in a spinach leaf? Drizzle a little vinegar over it and pop it in your mouth? Okay, I might. It's when the raisin starts to take on characteristics of its former self that I struggle. The first time I had a conversation with Q, I asked him about his opinion on the cooked raisin. I had a hunch that he was the kind of person who would really sink his teeth into this, and I was not disappointed. We were at a party with our significant others and two friends. He was quite enthusiastic about the idea, but I stuck with my argument that so long as the raisin maintains its raisin-ness nature - dried fruit, essentially - then mixing is okay; but, in something like a muffin, where it becomes fat and juicy? Well, as Type A says, if I want a fat and juicy raisin, I'll just eat a grape, thank you.
Q and I debated the issue for some time before taking it to the rest of the party in the form of a poll, the question being 'Cinnamon bun: with or without raisins?'. The results were about 2:1 without (I say 'about' because B, as always, claimed to enjoy both, but had more of an inclination towards without). This really didn't surprise me, but Q seemed genuinely taken aback. It was one of the funniest conversations I've ever had.
Raisins. They have a place, but maybe not in a salad. Would you wrap a raisin in a spinach leaf? Drizzle a little vinegar over it and pop it in your mouth? Okay, I might. It's when the raisin starts to take on characteristics of its former self that I struggle. The first time I had a conversation with Q, I asked him about his opinion on the cooked raisin. I had a hunch that he was the kind of person who would really sink his teeth into this, and I was not disappointed. We were at a party with our significant others and two friends. He was quite enthusiastic about the idea, but I stuck with my argument that so long as the raisin maintains its raisin-ness nature - dried fruit, essentially - then mixing is okay; but, in something like a muffin, where it becomes fat and juicy? Well, as Type A says, if I want a fat and juicy raisin, I'll just eat a grape, thank you.
Q and I debated the issue for some time before taking it to the rest of the party in the form of a poll, the question being 'Cinnamon bun: with or without raisins?'. The results were about 2:1 without (I say 'about' because B, as always, claimed to enjoy both, but had more of an inclination towards without). This really didn't surprise me, but Q seemed genuinely taken aback. It was one of the funniest conversations I've ever had.
Tuesday, 11 November 2008
All I need is a haircut
I am developing a bad case of hockey hair. There's a salon I usually go to a few doors down from here, but I don't want to make an appointment. It's a high-end salon (by One Great City! standards) and I usually get a good cut there, but really I go just because it's close. Most of the rest of it annoys me - the inane conversation, the token dog, the way the stylists replace the product bottles along the bottom of the mirrors with a spin so that the labels are always facing outward. There is also tipping weirdness. I hate the way posh places expect you to just know who to tip, when and how much, and it's this big to-do if you get it wrong.
Lb*'s B is into hockey. He used to keep a very detailed book in the bathroom which analysed each of the players in the NHL for their speed, skating ability, finesse and so on. The day I discovered it, I was in that bathroom for ages because it was totally engrossing, even for someone who is not a big hockey fan. I flipped through most of it, but kept going back to the picture of the year's top player. Something about it was very compelling - likely his bizarre hairdo. Still, I thought he was lovely. (What is wrong with me?) He has since cut his hair and, well, the intrigue is just gone for me. So, I carry the flame of his past look in my own hairstyle. Just a few more months avoiding that salon...
Lb*'s B is into hockey. He used to keep a very detailed book in the bathroom which analysed each of the players in the NHL for their speed, skating ability, finesse and so on. The day I discovered it, I was in that bathroom for ages because it was totally engrossing, even for someone who is not a big hockey fan. I flipped through most of it, but kept going back to the picture of the year's top player. Something about it was very compelling - likely his bizarre hairdo. Still, I thought he was lovely. (What is wrong with me?) He has since cut his hair and, well, the intrigue is just gone for me. So, I carry the flame of his past look in my own hairstyle. Just a few more months avoiding that salon...
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
