Tuesday, June 27, 2000

7:40 p.m. The day is drawing to a close and a gentle calm breeze is blowing, and we've just come in from the outside where we went to catch said breeze. I won't complain and say that the day was actually hot today, because by no stretch could that be so, but ... I haven't felt like putting boiling water on for the corn on the cob ...

... but maybe after the sun goes down and it cools down a little bit more, I will. We at the beach, at the sea shores of the continents, we enjoy cooling breezes in summer and warming breezes in winter, and don't think I don't appreciate it -- I do.

I've been very faithful in watering all my potted plants and I even potted a few new ones today. Little bit by little bit, I'm actually causing this place to look less stark on the outside, and don't think I don't think that's amazing, because I do. I even bought some rooting hormone at the garden center, so there's no telling what's next.

No telling at all. Lazy days on the outside, but inside I'm working up a storm. I'm creating content for a new website that's not yet ready for public viewing, which means that now's the time for frantic derring-do behind the scenes.

I'm looking around for writers -- if you think you'd like to consider the gig, email me and I'll fill you in on all the details. I'll also be your friendly editor, so keep that in mind as you mull. I may be short, but I often stay up all night and that makes me ... you know.

9:05 p.m. See, this is the typical thing. I'm slaving over a hot computer when I should be slaving over a hot stove. There's nobody to make our dinner if I insist on working right straight through the dinner hour, but there are only so many hours in the day and I need a robot.*

*Since I am absolutely starved for entry ideas and I'm really embarrassed at how still and plain and common my daily life usually is, I will save the whole robot rant for another day. Probably tomorrow -- because! -- I've got the perfect photo. Yup, I have a robot photo.

Ahem. Still no corn on the cob or in the pot. But I've managed to get a few more articles edited, photos scanned in -- I'm cooking with gas here on my imaginary four-burner. Hate to quit when I'm smokin' ... any other hot hot metaphors lying around?

But my stomach's rumbling and I've got to taper off on the Smartees because they give me a sort of sugar hangover if I'm not careful. I like all sorts of sour-ish candy. Red hots, sour sugared gummi things, Sweetarts. But only every once in a while, or if they hang them right there at the checkout at eye level.

You'd think they'd lower them for the little kids ...

12:02 a.m. I've just now finished off some nice leftovers that were in the fridge just waiting for me to come and claim them as my own. Pasta primavera, as a matter of fact. Homemade from a couple of days ago, when we tried out our new, perfectly fabulous wine glasses. Tonight, it's rewarmed and just as good as before, but then, I've never met a linguini I didn't like.

Meanwhile, I ate at the machine and finished up just about every speck of work that I had piled up in my invisible "in" basket. And believe me, the fact that it's invisible doesn't quell the terror of it at all. Not at all.

The corn will have to wait until tomorrow, along with the robots.