Expletives

Holy fuck-shit! Old people fuck quicker than the rate at which this day is going by. At least I'm past the midpoint on this journey.

I had a conversation a little while ago with a co-worker, Lyle, and he's willing to part with a few pint jars, much to my delight. Why? Because my newly-acquired book on canning includes a section on preserving fruits in spirits and the Jenifer Street Market has a hoolie on Bing cherries so I'm gonna preserve their little pit-laden essences in some bourbon. Or brandy. Or rum. I'm not quite sure which flava I'm going with yet. The process is easy enough for even a wretch like me: take clean jars and fill them with cherries, sugar, and hooch. Seal and store in cellar. Then in a couple months - BAM! We'll have cherries to kick some ice cream up a notch. In addition I must procure a respirator or gas mask or an aqualung in preparation for making hot sauce. Last time I did so, I sent capsacin-laced clouds of steam through the house driving my roommies into fits of crying and coughing. You can imagine the damage it did to me as I hovered over the stovetop chanting:

"Cayenne of pepper
and vinegar of white, hot sauce I make this night

Double, double toil and trouble
Fire burn and saucepan bubble"

Also in a culinary vein, I plan on making that Polish pot roast at some point this week but I dunno when. It was to have been cooked yesterday but Becca got off of work early so we headed out on Lake Mendota where we dropped anchor out in front of the Governor's Mansion and promptly inflated the Party Island. We didn't have a whole lotta time but there was enough to enjoy a few cocktails and catch some sun. To get back from whence I started this paragraph, I had planned to make it tonight but Becca and Stevie are apparently extending their weekend away from dieting so as to enjoy pizza imported from Portage tonight. So perhaps tomorrow.

This week I intend to finally get my ass around to letterboxing. I'm fearful that the one I chose to find has been found already as someone Googled the directions to it which were in Latin and were posted here on my blog conveniently pre-translated. I suppose that my trek and cooking venture will depend upon whether or not I do any tutoring this week. My student has been worked like a dog at his job and has been too tired for lessons. Plus, last week a friend of his fell ill and he drove the guy to the emergency room. Hopefully Thunderbirds are go for tonight as I've got my new & improved flashcards decorated as they are with funky clip art courtesy of Microsoft. It was a bit of a struggle to get the cards made as I found that, when I tried to open the Clip Art gallery, I'd get an error. I figured out the solution fairly quickly (needed an MDAC upgrade) but was reluctant to execute the necessary reboot as I had a precious download in progress. (For anyone who may be wondering, yes, this was the first time I'd attempted to use the Clip Art in the nearly 2 years I've had this incarnation of Office.) But the gods of IT were on my side and I was able to get the cards made and printed.

Curiously enough, I received an e-mail from The Dulcinea a few days ago. It reads:

Hi Palmer [there are so many names for you in my life, you are like the proverbial 'snow' for Eskimos],

Trying to exorcise a demon with this email, I think.

Forbidden fruit is always so sweet.

Not writing to say anything, really, just writing to have done it.

A lot I'd like to say, but now isn't the time. Later, maybe, next month, next year.

Be well.

The Dulicinea

And so begins the long, tense period of waiting for her next missive. I am rather hoping that she will wait until next year so that she'll have something other than a littany of complaints. Presumably by then she'll have another boyfriend who is a much better person than I am, be happily in love, and write much less nasty things.

Ooh! This bit from a review of Adrian Belew's new album, Side Two, makes me want to run out and buy it:

And finally, the CD winds up with Sunlight, easily the best thing I’ve heard from Mr Belew so far in his Side series. Imagine a rave backbeat version of Tomorrow Never Knows accented with Oriental strings, percolating keyboard runs, Lennon-McCartneyesque quarter-tone background harmonies (circa Revolver) and that acidy trademark par excellence, the backwards loop! Somehow, it all hits you like sunlight itself: it’s a golden bouncy shiny foot tapper.

Dave down at Mad City had better get this album in soon cuz I'm gonna be heading down there at lunch one day this week.

Alright. I'd swear there was something else upon which I had intended to blather but I cannot recall what the hell it is. Oh well. It's probably a good thing as the super-climax of "Russia on Ice" is about to start. You too can hear it by going here, downloading the show, and fast forwarding. Or you can listen to the whole nine yards.