1. Today's temperature: it's a cold one, in the 30s headings for the 40s
Today's soundtrack: "It's a Hot One, Baby!", heading for fever pitch, thanks to 2 hep cat kids named Jayson and DJ,, as well as Jayson's dad, the musician J. Lang, and his friend Geoff, freesound project members Andreas, DCDJ, and Albertsab, and ccmixter's tachyon869.
2. Weight Watchers points permitted to me each day: 28.
Weight Watchers points in a dollar store chocolate bunny: 14
Weight Watchers points in a carrot: 0
Why eat a bunny when you can live like one?
3. For those who feel that Livejournal posts should have more industrial content, I meet that need now by encouraging you to take the Peeps Factory Tour.
4. For those who really only focus on the crafting, then I direct you to click on the "featured recipes and crafts button for instructions on how to make the Peeps Flowerpot Topiary.
5. I noticed on eBay that a charity was auctioning off a cowry shell gourd shaker from Africa to raise funds for Africa relief. I must confess that I had very little need for a cowry shell gourd shaker, but I bid anyway for this device, in light of the good cause. It arrived, a huge brown gourd shaker, with dozens of tiny cowry shells attached by strings to its outside. When I shake it, it makes a cowry-cacophonous rattle. It's impossible to pick it up without feeling a kind of shake-rattle-hum goodness about it.
6. In 2 weeks our neighborhood is having a yard sale. My ambition is to clear my house of many priceless posessions I have packratted away, earning as much as 25 cents for each item.
7. In a display of personal weakness, I found myself stopping at the grocery store lottery ticket machine last night. I'd love to win the lottery and give a lot of the money away, but the main thing I ever won, contest-wise, was two cakes at a cake walk.
8. There is nothing wrong with me that 2 hours of exercise and 2 hours of hard work won't cure.
I know of a man from church in intensive care, and an ambient musicican in a similar state, both, ironically, suffering from the same, uncommon thing, which helps me to remember how fortunate I am to be within 4 hours of cure for my imagined ills.
9. I like false pride. Rather, I do not so much like it as find in it a steady source of comfort and amusement. One of my items of false pride is that because my father's hairline did not recede at all until he was 70, mine would never recede. I knew this was unscientific thinking, because one looks to the grandparental generation, although there, too, and everywhere, but for a loved but wayward uncle, I was all right.
But the last two haircuts are showing me that a slight but gradual recession is occurring, turning my widow's peak oh-so-slowly from a gentle slope to a small butte. It may be three years, or five, or ten, but someday I will look different than I look now. I notice each centimeter of advance (or should I say "recession"), although the casual observer might not notice at all. I am growing to love my changes, because, rather like bifocals, they are tangible evidence of transitions.
10. Sadly, my chess play seems also to be undergoing that "nearing fifty" mild decline that so often happens. I begin to realize it is not all about shaking off rust. I assumed that because my mind feels so young and alive I would be immune to middle-age ratings creep. I must find my copy of "Chess Master at Any Age" and see if I can make the rating points return.