I killed my Italian parsley last week, which is something new I learned I guess, that and how toilet flappers work and how you're not supposed to use your energy-efficient CFLs in conjunction with a dimmer switch lest you want to shorten the bulb's life and thereby contribute to its demise like some sort of cancer, which is what we are, really, a cancer on this Earth. Last night I learned a spiffy new way to peel asparagus, not that I generally peel my asparagus--the green stuff anyway--but it was good to learn in case an asparagus-peeling emergency ever pops up. I like to be prepared for such things. I also learned that Susan will let me steal her cocktails. That one I'll definitely file away for future use.
July was mostly unbearable with a sprinkling of brightness patterned throughout, shining stars like beacons in the gloam. Dinner here, trivia there, a couple of plays and a night urban camping glimmer on the the calendar; connect the dots and a picture emerges of, well, Something Awesome. Mostly I've learned to be satisfied with that, with the little lessons and scant hours lost in the moment, in friends and wine and Robespierre. Because when in doubt, you should always go with Robespierre.
It's hard to believe it's August; with the heat the days seem blended together as one, each passing in a damp haze, a succession of sun rises and sets with no relief but from the light. Maybe because of that my thoughts have gone no deeper than critiquing old episodes of Jem, wondering if I turned out the way I did from watching all those Clarissa episodes, and remembering that Patty Mayonnaise was a pretty awesome chick. My boss had us sorted into our Hogwarts houses and a co-worker made a face when mine came up Ravenclaw. I tried to blame the weather on my recent absentmindedness but perhaps I'm really not as smart as I used to suspect I was.
I suspect I'm not a lot of things I used to be.