It's Better in Wyoming.

I'm a big fan of the serenity prayer. But it leaves out "patience." God grant me the patience to just accept the mess I've made for a few more days until this project is over. I can't wait to get my house back. The bathroom makeover has gone remarkably well, but the mess sets me on edge. Every space in my house is doing double-duty--today I cut trim in the living room, used the kitchen island for getting paint ready, and set the new vanity sink on my bed so I could fit the new p-trap. I don't consider myself an especially tidy person, but this project has required me to be okay with a level of dirty and scattered-out-ness that is not okay for me. It's an odd realization, actually. I don't mind projects when they can be contained; but this one has spilled out into too much other time and space to be comfortable. If all goes well, though, I'll be able to start moving back into "normal" mode by the 1st. Here's one view of the mes

Earlier today, before starting in on bathroom remodeling for the day, I finished The Giant's House. Julie had loaned me her copy, which I then lost. So I got a replacement copy, and of course then promptly found the one she'd lent me. In any case, it's a book worth passing on, so now I can get her copy back to her and pass on the other copy. Win! Win! Here's a passage from the book that I like: I never felt jealous at weddings. I longed for love, yes, but I never saw that love was in greater supply at weddings than in butcher shops or department stores. The sight of a couple furtively holding hands beneath a restaurant table was more likely to remind me of the hopelessness of my life than any number of ladies dressed in giant christening gowns reciting words to become joined to a man in a rented suit. I do not like public ceremony, not graduations, not weddings, not pep rallies, nor church. Perhaps I simply do not understand trying to share one emotion (love rel

For the record, bulk quinoa should be well rinsed before cooking. Had I not had coffee with Sarah yesterday, I might have overlooked this important step and ended up with bitter Christmas Eve dinner. Instead, a masterpiece. Quinoa with sausage and kale 6-8 kale leaves, chopped 12 oz sausage (I would've preferred a local pig, but instead ended up with a tube of 50%-less-fat stuff from the supermarket) 1 cup quinoa 2 cloves garlic 2 dashes caraway 2 dashes cumin 1 dash coriander 1 dash chili powder 1 tsp. coarse ground mustard 1 splash Worcestershire sauce 2 splashes red wine 3 splashes rice vinegar Step 1. Soak and rinse the quinoa. Soak for 15 minutes or so. If you have processed stuff, you may not need to rinse it. If you've got a sieve, use it. I improvised with a plastic container and a flat spatula. Step 2. Start the sausage and garlic in a frying pan, medium heat. Step 3. After rinsing the quinoa, start it a pot. Use about twice as much water as quinoa. Simmer i

I like the idea of flash mobs. In this video, I especially like watching the reaction of the people walking through the station. In general, I think that all of us get sort of used to our lives, the expectedness of the routine, and a flash mob seems like a way to shake us out of that unthinkingness. There's something about the balance between "planned" and "spontaneous" that works differently than, say, a scheduled performance on a set of risers off in some corner of a mall or train station or street corner. Those types of performances are on the side, something apart from where we are, things that may also be beautiful and harmonious but that don't require our notice. Seems like a flash mob changes that, maybe because it's performed by people who seem like us--people who aren't separated by a velvet rope or matching candy-cane striped sweaters or whatever. I like the way, too that the group disperses randomly after the event—the sense that

An article in The Atlantic about Einstein provides this 1921 NYT headline, which ran after astronomical observations lent support to his theory of relativity: "Stars Not Where They Seemed to Be or Were Calculated to Be, but Nobody Need Worry" I love it, maybe because it manages to captures one of the lessons I've learned over the past few years.

It's sort of exciting (and relatively rare) for me to find three different frames that I like. Now the hard part is narrowing it down to one. After having asked a couple of the staff at the eye doctor's, my roommate, and Stephanie, an early leader is emerging. But I'm open to other feedback..... Option 1 Option 2 Option 3 Comments?

two years ago I brought home a wonderful poodle painting. it was a white elephant gift from the best christmas party in town. originally i'd selected an amazing large-print, noteb00k-page-sized TV remote, which was stolen from me in exchange for the poodle. i was, at first, disappointed about the forced swap (really, who prefers poodles over remote control of the television?), but over time i grew to love the painting--so much so that I couldn't stand to regift it last year--or this year, either. so instead i boxed up some randomness (owl potholders, spare change, etc.), and ended up with Herb Albert and the Tijuana Brass AND "Background Music: Songs for Harmonizing" on vinyl. Yes, that's right: 45 rpm goodness. Since I don't have a record player, the albums will have to compete for wall space with the poodle. In related news: if the bathroom remodel goes well, the poodle will likely lose its noble position next to the medicine cabinet. i imagine that my

in my attempt to keep the crawlspace warm, i stopped by the plumbing shop this afternoon for advice. a couple of choices: insulate the space better, use heat tape, and/or put in a space heater. I opted for the first choice, and followed through by screwing 2" styrofoam blue board to the single-pane door into the crawlspace. according to the thermometer so far tonight, this step doesn't seem to have been all that effective. current temp in the crawlspace: 37.4 degrees. tomorrow may be space-heater shopping day. in related news, my very favorite piece of technology right now is my down comforter. most nights i choose not to turn on the electric heat in my room because the cold air acts as a nice counter to the incredibly warm envelope of downy goodness. when i finally turn off the light for the night, i smile at the genuinely enjoyable experience of falling asleep.

i find it incredibly easy to find great christmas presents. for myself. thinking of the other important people in my life is somewhat harder. yesterday i took advantage of ace's powertool sale and bought a dewalt 4 1/2" grinder. i'm counting this as a christmas present to me, even though the argument could be made that it's very quickly going to become necessary equipment. now i'm looking at the avett bros. april concert tickets, trying to decide if my bank account can stand to take another hit. i've got a birthday coming in january, i guess. hope the show doesn't sell out before my paycheck comes in... in other news, the remote thermometer reading in the crawlspace says 36.5. think i'd better check it later tonight. maybe leave the kitchen faucet on a trickle.

The temperature in the crawl space/root cellar/dugout basement/torture chamber underneath the house has been holding at about 37 degrees over the past two days. I'm sure the house is losing some heat through the floor, and I'm hoping that the space is sealed enough to maintain that temperature. Given that the pipes don't seem all that new, I'm guessing that the inter-relationships between pipes, heater, ground, etc. must have created a non-freezing system in the past. Perhaps I should be proactive and buy a space heater. Tomorrow: single-digit highs.

If you knew you going to die soon, would it change the way you spend the time remaining? That's the central question of "Happy People," which I watched tonight with my friend Sue, and I think the movie answers by suggesting, basically, that habits die hard. I ultimately liked the movie, but found it pretty depressing. It's nice to hope that, confronted with the end of it all, we'd make kind, wise, generous, thoughtful choices. Or maybe it just seems like there should be more people around, every day, who make those kinds of choices.

Sidelined at the soccer game, with my gimpy arm in its brace, watching our team get soundly defeated, I had forty minutes to think about what I'm not. For example, I'm not a really talented soccer player, and even with twenty years' more practice I wouldn't be good as some of the guys out there who are twenty (or thirty) years older than me now. Nobody is going to ever see me as the lynch pin of the team--the stable force who manages to keep them in the game. Nobody is ever going to recruit me to the team for my athletic prowess. I'll never have the beauty of movement, the soft touch, the graceful assist. And I'll never be recruited for my ability to cheer up the team, rally them for that last effort, make up some cheer-full cheer to make everybody smile. It's odd: finally realizing what I am good at in this life also forces me to see all of the things that I'm not good at. Part of me is pretty okay with that realization, but another part of me wi