(title not clever this time, though this is not to say that they ever are)
I open the garage door with a remote, and drive in the car.
Permanent house? Me moving forward without moving my legs? How does this door go up without visible force applied? Why am I driving a car into the house? It makes such a clatter!
I go to the dentist for a cleaning.
I am watching Giada overpronounce and cook some sort of appetizer on a TV screen that moves on an arm so that it can be comfortably seen from my position, that is, reclined on this multiarticulated chair with a ribbed bib clipped across my front, an even more covered woman using precision tools to scrape accumulation from my teeth, my mouth illuminated by lights filtered so that their beam might not hurt my eyes.
Such a primal task, so much accouterments. Like delousing, but for teeth.
(why does it take me a million syllables to say anything)
I watch a cook talk weird and make bisque on TV — the screen moved on an arm so I could see it and not hurt my neck. How would I hurt my neck? There, I lie down on a chair that bends in spots. I wear a rough bib, and the nurse scrapes plaque from my teeth with a sharp point that does not hurt at all. She can see in my mouth by a light in front of my face. It does not hurt my eyes though it is bright.
(did I lose meaning? dignity? gain clarity? sense?)
Perhaps, as nurse-woman stripped my teeth of their persistent habit, I can also scrape my speech of their polysyllabic cloak.
(title: three count –> east coast swing –> east coast; there are also three groups of observations)
Things that are refreshing to find:
- People understand drainage. The lawns are just as green: they just don’t go squash when you attempt to walk across them and threaten to give your foot a mudbath.
- Parking spots are generous (none of those spots marked ‘compact’) and I think signage is better? Like, I can tell which traffic light is for which lane. It is probably also a matter of familiarity.
- There is diversity beyond white and Asian. There are like, (Southern European | African)-Americans! There are dialects! There are other body types! (and no performance fleece in sight)
Things that are simply different:
- All the surfaces on my house are much lower, and in general it is darker. I think this is a matter of when the house was built (1960’s) and that we have lots of trees and drapes.
- There is no 89.5 (commercial-free music, usually dancey), but I have WMNR, community arts radio, back, and they play actually interesting things. Today I heard Elgar’s Violin Concerto in b for the first time and I’m pretty enamored. There’s something enchanting about the descending minor-third doublestop (but I think mostly because it’s in the Walton viola concerto).
Things I sort of miss:
- The sun. It is nearly totally dark at 8:30.
- The dryness. It’s fairly muggy.
- not the people, obviously, of course, not at all
My REI members’ dividend/reimbursement thingy came back! I am a pleasantly-surprised one-time hikelet.
Lots of things are frightening, but particularly frightening is when the sprinklers outside my window turn on.
Initially, it shuffles, like something’s shifting inside the wall. Fine.
Then it clanks, like my heater turning on. Fantastic! I was cold anyway and I’m glad it’s working again.
But then it sputters, and this makes me think that a pressure cooker is going, and that something is wrong with the setup. It shouldn’t pfafff pffafffff stromphhhh like this. No, no, definitely not; this time the porridge isn’t getting cooked more efficiently: it’s ending up on the ceiling to fall down in globs, and leave a purple-pink stain forever.
But then all seems to set, and we hear a steady, industrious hiss of steam. All is well, and I shall prepare to wake up to a well-watered lawn, approaching soggy.
but even that is inadequate if
Jason‘s status has been a Mitch Hedberg quotation that “A burrito is a sleeping bag for ground beef.”
I had a Burrito con lengua (hence ‘silence’) at the Taqueria el Gallo in Redmond, WA. The burrito was served quickly and not very expensive (< 7 usd?); I couldn't stop eating it. I mean, I did, but I didn't want to. Well-seasoned rice, creamy beans, and unimaginably tender bits of tongue.
It's across Redmond Way from Danceworks, and slightly farther east. If you were really motivated, I'd say it was a shuttle ride + 10 minutes walk, with some judicious jaywalking.
otoh I am really glad that I didn't go sing Carmina Burana today. It would have been so much fail, given my energy level.
I’ve complained to Nick that one of the reasons I have trouble ordering at Not Just Snacks, a curiously-named but very good Indian restaurant, is that to me, most of the dishes are somehow the ‘same’ to me. They are all in my ‘stew’ category: chunks of things in sauce, braised.
So now, my grand list of buckets for savory things!