The sang froid is her – she rocks the uneven bars.
The hot butt is me after Paul’s delayed family Indian dinner at Best Quality Sweets on Main St. I am suffering today, although I didn’t yesterday. Yes, it’s Too Much Information. I told Jeff he should be happy there were no leftovers for him or he’d be suffering too. I noticed neither of the kids put their hands up for the check, but since neither of them read my blog, they won’t feel the rebuke. For 60 bucks including tip we ate like ogres. This is a lacto vegetarian restaurant. The mango lassi was suPERB, the chai tea kinda whatever with weird spice sludge at the end. I ate so much I had no room for Indian sweets for dessert, which is FULL.
I am about ready to quit being a Unitarian, having reached my load line on denominational bullshit. I won’t of course, it’s just all part of my engagement with the faith. Nothing’s perfect, including me, and if people want to nice me to death, I can always back away before that last soft word turns into a killing blow. Also, I am one moody individual, so I just need the mood to die back and I’ll be fine. A foolish consistency is what’s asked of us when we believe that organized religion is necessary or even possible.
I am NOT a nice person. I’m nice to my my mother, but so what? Even the guy who kept two women as sex slaves was nice to his mother. It’s not a good test…. What I want more than anything else is to keep all my bad behaviours and still be categorized as nice, and that’s when the crazy train really starts to pick up speed. Woo woo!
Speaking of train whistles, I ran across this article which made me very happy. My room is at a sonic collection point for train noise (it hits the neighbour’s house, bounces against the garage and then slams into my window) so even though the whistles are 2.5 kilometres away sometimes I feel like I am right on Columbia St. If NW Council can make it stop I’ll do handsprings. Mentally of course, I couldn’t even do that when I was little.
There’s a new species of waterbear, from Antarctica. How sweet is that?
My symphysis pubis spasmed in sympathy. Ow ow ow ow ow.
