One of the things I miss about drinking strong coffe is the caffeine buzz. It seemed to make life just a little bit easier, at times. Like today, when I have no inspiration to do anything. I could sit down, drink a pot of coffee, and the world would have sparkly edges. Everything would inspire me to something.
I’d never finish that stuff, though. Because I’d travel back to the land of after-coffee, and it’d be boring. Utterly boring.
Anyway, I’ve had a long run of uninspiring days. Stuff happens, but it does’t feel important enough to write about. Made a new kind of chicken noodle soup, a pistou without the vegetables, I guess, and accidentally received an indoor grilling book from my cookbook club, which Lee was excited about, so I’ll keep it. (Yes, I belong to a cookbook club. I don’t usually cook using recipes, either.) I’m introducing Ray to the idea that letters make sounds, which make words. Lee’s brother Mike stopped by on his way to see their brother Dale in Tucson; Mike wanted to know what tricks Ray could do. Heard about Dale being Dale; it sounds like he’s dating someone who can relate to–not just laugh at–his stories. She only has one eye. I went to a potluck/open house celebrating the adoption of my boss’s two new kids from the Ukraine. I finally read Zen Mind, Beginner’s Mind. I’m roasting chicken with homemade yakitori sauce. I read Song of Susannah yesterday, and I found it lacking compared to the other books in the series, probably because so much of it was a writerly trick to set up the last book. Did laundry. Survived another sinus infection. Changed the batteries in 20 cheap watches and only lost one screw.
But I did sit down today and promise myself that I’d write in my blog. I don’t know why, but even the dull entries make me feel better, at heart, than drinking a pot of coffee. And not as twitchy, either.