Holy smoke, I don’t care if you’re Gandhi and all his disciples and the entire Republic of India, the fragrance of a freshly-roasted slab of beef and potatoes smothered in onion soup is going to make your stomach growl, hello. This morning when I was preparing it I was practically gagging over the bloody sop it exuded, but now, after it’s done, I’m starving entirely because of the way it smells.
It’s raining today. I had expected it yesterday but my expectations were pleasantly disappointed, and I ended up spending the afternoon with my mom and having a great time. I bought a shade for the lamp of yesterday’s post but decided, after sitting with it for an evening and a day, that it’s too dark and therefore unsuitable. I’ll return it and keep searching. We ate lunch at Subway and went back to her house to watch Design Star, which she had recorded from the night before. Also, there were chocolate cookies involved, and red licorice ropes.
Today, while I was eating my Lipton’s chicken soup lunch, I put on a movie I had borrowed from the library, a BBC Drama presentation of Persuasion and *YAWN.* I wish I could make that font bigger and in 3-D. Everything looks right: the costumes and the atmosphere and the landscape and buildings, and the music is purty, but I don’t believe a word of the dialogue because it’s so inadequately presented by the actors, who are wholly unengaging. In fact, I’m kind of grossed out now because the leading lady just ran up to the leading man and told him that yes, she’d marry him, but she had a mouth full of spit when she said it. You know, the stringy kind that sticks to your lips. I was cringing in horror but was also too fascinated to look away, especially as I knew there had to be a kiss after that and felt really bad for the guy. It’s still on but only as window dressing. I’m finding it hard to get motivated to do anything that might be construed as productive, so I’m giving up on that notion and will finish Ghost Story as soon as I finish here. I think I need to make a tuna sammich to round out my meal or I’m going to find myself in the kitchen hunched over the roast, stuffing it by chunks into my mouth with my tiny sausage fingers.
This is quite possibly the most uninspiring post I’ve ever written, but I accidentally published it instead of simply saving the draft so now I’m stuck with it, unless I want to trash the whole thing, but I’m too invested for that. I’ll just take this opportunity to apologize, and maybe add more as the spirit moves… or if I’m really your friend, stop typing now. Let’s do that one. Love to all. kiss!