I’m having one of those days when staying in bed really is the best course of action, because I’m all sinussy, and my ears hurt, and I’m just too crabby to interact with human people and even my dogs are on my list tonight.
I’m hungry, and I don’t have the energy to cook, and even if I did, nothing is appealing.
Well, almost nothing.
I have a glass of organic apple cider and some lovely super-super-sharp, crumbly, white cheddar.
Fuzzy says I get points for not throwing anything at the television during the first presidential debate last night. It helped that I was watching the twitter feed and laughing at the snarky comments being made.
We started watching on NBC, then moved to CNN because, just as my stepfather likes to watch the clothes spin round in the washer, Fuzzy likes to watch the wavy lines of the response graphs. May I just say that Christiane Amanpour gets more and more beautiful with every year? I so want to be her when I grow up.
I’m not going to quote any of the responses. As debates go, this one didn’t seem to be all that special, and I maintain that it was a draw, and unlikely to have changed the mind of anyone who’d already decided where their vote was going before watching.
McCain’s choice not to look Obama directly in the eye, or address comments TO him, even when being urged to by Jim Lehrer? = BAD.
Obama’s use of McCain and Lehrer’s first names when speaking TO them? = GOOD.
And Obama gets points from the language geek part of my personality not just for pronouncing Pakistan correctly, but also for pronouncing Iran and Iraq with the proper vowel tones. As for McCain, he seriously needs a refresher course in subject-verb agreement.
No man can taste the fruits of autumn while he is delighting his scent with the flowers of spring.
– Samuel Johnson
In improvisation, one of our exercises is a game called “Seven Things,” in which we go around in a circle giving each other the challenge, “Give me seven things that [whatever].” We are not going to go around in a circle here, but if you’re drawn to lists, this prompt is for you.
So, give me seven tastes or scents that define autumn for you.
Ozone. Autumn rain smells sharper than the rain we get in summer.
Smoke. It’s not quite time yet, here in Texas, but once the evening temperatures dip lower than 63 on a routine basis, fireplaces are put to use once more.
Squash. Fall brings pumpkins into vogue, of course, but it also means a return to hardier squashes: acorn, butternut, spaghetti, instead of crookneck and zucchini. I love both the scent and the flavor of harvest squashes.
Apple cider. Sure, it’s available all year round, but it’s only in autumn that you can visit a fair or festival for freshly pressed cider. Sweetened or not, hard or not, with or without cinnamon, chilled or steamed, cider is the one thing that really means that summer is waning, at least for me.
Soup. I love soup. Once the weather begins to turn, it becomes my habit to make soups and stews on the weekend. There’s nothing like something warm and spicy bubbling on the stove or in the crockput, available whenever either of us takes a break from whatever project we’re puttering with.
Heat. I know heaters and furnaces aren’t supposed to have scents, but after a summer of disuse, there’s still a dusty musty smell the first few times we have the heat on in the mornings. It should trigger allergies, but somehow it smells comforting, instead.
Caramel corn. I don’t eat it very often, but there’s something really warming about the buttery/sweet/salty scent and flavor of caramel corn, especially when it’s combined with a rainy day and a great movie.
Carmi meant for this week’s theme to be macro photography, I’m certain, but I think he’ll cut me a little slack for the picture I’m submitting. You see, it was 3:30 in the morning, and I’d finally found batteries for the camera, and had gone outside to shoot the red ring encircling the moon, when I heard a splash.
At first, I thought one of the dogs had fallen into the pool, but that wasn’t the case. It also wasn’t a skunk, or one of the raccoons that thinks my swimming pool is it’s personal bathtub. It was frog. I watched him swim the circumference of the pool, pausing now and then, and finally I realized that he couldn’t get out.
Of course, I snapped a few pictures before reaching for the skimmer – he backed right into it, and didn’t jump out until I’d set it gently on the ground.
I think it’s the best shot I could have taken without actually getting in the water.
Anyway, meet Froggy: