Morning Meditations #57: The Difference Between Summer Breezes and North Winds

Yesterday was a sad kinda day. My time wasn’t spent uselessly, choosing to write and read rather than sulk, too much. This morning, I did get a big win by finding good resolution with the weird relationship dud.

I suppose I likely did dismiss any views about her not being a good ape along side me. She felt that was beyond rude. Excellent. Disappointing, but gotta say, I am glad she doesn’t have to hear my long spiels about memory and mental quiet; I can go on about it quite exuberantly. Yet, I also think it is odd when someone accuses me of airing the problem I had with them, as though keeping our problems quiet is the hallowed solution for the new epochs of history. It’s worked so well thus far (this is sarcasm). I tell everyone, I do mean everyone, that I run a blog called “An Arkansas Atheist” which regularly talks about my life, and in fact, does so near to, and just shy of daily. So yes, if you feel your problems are special in some way, please, please do not come within four-hundred yards of me, because I may talk about your life as it engages with mine. It is what I do.

I felt very free after this morning’s clarifications. Kind of like dodging a bullet or something. You’d hate for that one to come up around a Christmas dinner table ten years from now:

MM 57
Chopping block close up on a below freezing morning. Glorious.

Honey, you’re an ape.”

Honey, I want a divorce.”

While I came to terms with my near-miss (digression: I agree with Carlin that this should be a “Near-hit”), the cause for my failed yogurt came to me. I skipped a crucial cooling down phase and likely boiled my old culture to death. To think, killing all that yeast; maybe I am a bad person? *wink* This comes as a relief, because in the long run, my yogurt techniques will be far more valuable than sadness over one female ape’s inability to embrace the very primate that makes her human.

I’ve one last overnight errand to run before I can fully engage in the holiday spirit that will inevitably overcome all of our homes over the next six weeks. I’ve got an exceptional tree this year donated by a good friend (well, we were good friends, why am I such a jerk these days, geez, them shits are falling like flies passing through a dense cloud of HCl), and it must go up by the end of next week. Mom’s house too, and Pop is doing Thanksgiving at his place. Ivy is home for the week (that’s a cool newish feature of modernity), so we’ve already got lots of adventures planned.

I’ve been threatening soups for a while now, so I am openly taking soup recipes and ideas. If some really good ones come my way, I’ll probably do some soup reviews; writer’s gotta write after all. The first roasted red pepper soup was a hit a couple of weeks back, and I am ready for the next round of experiments.

Also, I am so glad the cold is here. There is nothing more fun than ice cold outsideness, followed by coming into the warmest place ever, and soaking up that warmth. It looks like my best girl, Ivy, is the one I get to share it with this winter. And of course, seeing that she is a part of my life, I suppose we’ll be sharing a great deal with all of you, Gentle Readers, too.

Along those lines I will be beginning the series about the meditation and writing retreat today or tomorrow, so stay tuned.

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