Rendered extraordinarily

Payday. And you know what that means Dear Reader. (A statement, not a question. Rhetorical or otherwise). Payday Party. Payday offering from my kitchen. This month I bastardized bread pudding, using crullers instead of bread. Cruller pudding. There will not be a photo to drool over D.R. Telling you about it is cruel enough. Showing you cruller pudding would be crueler.

Works for me

Find a penny pick it up. All day long you'll have good luck. As long as it is facing head side up. And you pick it up with your left hand. And you put it in your left front pocket. (To keep it away from all those other pedestrian coins you received as change at the 7-11). If it is tail side up, simply turn it over. Yes, with your left hand. Break contact with the penny. Then start fresh. This also works with nickels, dimes, quarters, and any other coins you might happen upon. (Upon which you might happen?) Currency, however, is a whole different matter Dear Reader.

Preview

Just a sneak preview Dear Reader. A retirement party today. A South of France Lemon Cheesecake with Strawberries today. Ricotta cheese is used instead of cream cheese. I think that might make it healthier. Or, at least not as unhealthy. Who's counting anyway? Oh yeah. I am. But not today.

For real

Should I? No. Would I? Hard to say. Could I? Oh yeah. You betcha I could Dear Reader. And no one would be the wiser. Not even you. Yet. In my refrigerator at home right now, this very second, in this moment we now share, is a South of France Lemon Cheesecake. It is made with ricotta instead of cream cheese. And there are fresh strawberries to load on top of it. I ask again... But wait. There is more. There is also a quart of fresh homemade strawberry ice cream. In the freezer Silly. I know better than that. Even I. As if that weren't enough (subjunctive mood?), there is leftover pizza from last night's Special Olympics end-of-the-summer-season pizza party. Almost an entire pie's worth made up of three flavors. Vegetarian. Hawaiian. Pepperoni. Correction: Pepperoni! The thought came to me, as thoughts are prone to do, that I could eat it all. Yes. All of it. Cheesecake, ice cream and pizza. Just to see what would happen. Aside from Susie being disappointed about missing out on the ice cream, the department missing out on the cheesecake at the retirement gathering, and, well, no one will miss the pizza I guess. That is, if I were to survive. There it is again.

Exclamation point!

Hello Old Friend. And you too Dear Reader. I don't know why I didn't order it sooner. I did place an interlibrary loan request for it a few years ago. And it does belong in my library. Criswell loves exclamation points. Especially when writing of the FUTURE! Some of the predictions in this book are hilarious. For example, that Oregon will become the site of the Federal Government's Mental Illness Complex and that, after all state mental hospitals are abolished, all committed mental patients will be sent to Oregon. Oregon? Oregon! The construction was to have begun in 1978. It is behind schedule. But we are already here. All of us. Waiting. We're waiting!

Now Playing

Those were the days my friend. They were destined to end. They had to. Homogenization would have been inevitable. The edge would have been dulled. Blunted even. DIY innovation would have morphed into corporate bile. I bought a new record album. Yes, record album. Two discs. A new record from the good folks at Alternative Tentacles. A new record of old (relatively) music. Rocky Mountain Low : the Colorado Musical Underground of the Late 1970s. And it is, for want of a better word, sweet. I have nothing to do with Colorado. Nor have I ever except for a layover or two or three at the Denver airport. But the late 1970s was my golden age. Rebellious high school years. Well, year rather. Just 1979. But the early eighties were good too. The album came with a bonus CD as well: the whole album. Well, almost. Everything from the vinyl version appears on the CD except for a pre-Dead Kennedys version of Jello's California über Alles. Ah. Memory lane. Conjured images of Eugene in the days of the Nads, the Foamlords, Tender Chunx, J. Gallows & the Executioners, and the Drills. Especially the Drills. Sniffle.

4:01.09

Yesterday was the Prefontaine Classic. I am embarrassed to say it was the first time I had ever attended. I'll keep it short Dear Reader. The highlight for me was the Bowerman Mile. (And I am an 800 fan). There were 16 entrants. Two did not finish the race. One runner finished with a time of 4:01.09. A good time indeed. But on this day, good enough for only 14th place. 13 sub-4-minute miles in one race. Now THAT is a classic.