Overheard In The Kitchenette
A: I don't know, I'm hooked on the powder.
B: Yeah? You like the powder?
A: You get used to it.
They were talking about non-dairy creamer, apparently.
I'm trying very hard to avoid letting everything that I've got to make happen in the next four to six weeks overwhelm me, and I'm meeting with some success. Chamomile tea seems to keep the medicine ball in my gut to a somewhat manageable five pounds or so. Crossing things off of my To Do list helps as well. I expect, at some point, that bursts of furious activity will provide even more distraction.
Yesterday, I heard from an old friend who's now living in China. He reminded me that the last time he saw me, I was preparing to "sell my car, put my stuff in storage, and move to Mexico." That was in 1994.
So, it seems that every ten years or so, I uproot myself. Of course...twice isn't really a pattern. Could be bookends. Check back when I'm sixty; then we'll talk about patterns.
This will be yet another miserly squirt of verbiage, because that's about all I can muster, so sorry. See you Monday.
