So, who’s on the Facebook? It’s fun for the whole family!
It has a particularly nice API for third party developers to offer interesting and blahblahblah services and applications blahblah, providing innovative blahblahblah in a vibrant and blahblah community. In short, your friends can send you pretty pictures of Writing-on-Stone Provincial Park.
So I was drinking some beers with a chum. We were in the Canadian bar, and it was Toonie Tuesday — 2€ beers (and vodka shots, and you know, whatever). We warmed up with a 6€ Québécois brew (Maudite and Chambly) so that the cheap San Miguel would be almost drinkable.
That’s when I made the ridiculous claim that Robert ..er.. whatisname was the lead singer of The Cure. You know the guy. I think he was also that video with the leggy blondes. Right! Robert Plant!
Back and forth, we debated. It was Robert something. Wasn’t Robert Plant from Led Zeppelin? Or wasn’t that guy’s name more or less like Robert Stamp. The bartender didn’t know (on an unrelated note, she was American, and the bar’s owner is English. Go Canada!)
Robert Plant. They make fun of him on South Park, and he’s got the crazy hair, and he probably rocks, and San Miguel beer tastes like skunk.
I was so convinced that I was right, that I refused to make a money bet — it wouldn’t be fair. So we ended up betting:
A. A long-distance run (a marathon for me, a Sun Run for her),
B. The completion of a particular craft project that I’ve been putting off for five years. By Christmas. I’m not going to say what the project is, to protect the Christmas surprise of the innocent. But I was thrilled to finally get it off my plate.
C. Whisky at breakfast. One day, at a breakfast restaurant, the loser is obliged to order a shot of whisky and look like a total alcoholic. This was inspired by Jessica and Robyn (hi girls!)
Long story short: Robert Plant sings with Led Zeppelin and Robert Palmer did the Addicted to Love video and Robert Smith is with The Cure. Go figure.
My bib number is #45251.
While I’m dwelling on the past, I just thought I’d share the shower invitation we used this summer for a rocking wedding shower. I thought it was kind of funny.
THE PARTICULARS
Sunday, July 3rd, at 2PM.
Arzoo XXX
12345-123 Street
Edmonton, Alberta
(780) 234-1234
THEME
Nuclear retro-homemaker happiness (frilly aprons, pearls, pink coconut cake, spatulas and advice on using an upright vaccuum).
POTLUCK
Little nibbly things from the dusty old cookbook in the shelf — bring a little something to munch on! We’ve had an offer of a jello mold, which is exactly in the right direction. Other good ideas include finger sandwiches, hairy coconut balls and cocktail weiners, and all manner of things skewered with toothpicks.
If you’re bringing something, let us all know in your comment! That way we can balance the sweet versus the savoury.
By the way, if you’re travelling or don’t have cuisining facilities available, don’t worry about bringing something. We’ll be judging you on your feather-dusting capabilities, not on your petit fours. And you can always bring a bottle or two of “Wifey’s Little Helper”, if you know what I mean…
GENDERS
Apparently D socializes with the boys as well as the girls, so this wedding shower is enthusiastically unisex. Bring your dingle and/or your hoo-hah if you have ‘em!
FOR THE BRIDE-TO-BE
We’re going to decorate a three ring binder, and put together a Wife’s Handbook as a keepsake. This is the chance to use all that scrapbooking crap you bought when you expected your life to deliver a few happy memories! Anything can go in the book, so bring along:
RÉPONDEZ S’IL-VOUS PLAÎT
If you’d like to participate, leave your name in the comments below, along with:
And a good time was had by all.
I had mentioned earlier that one of the things I wanted to blog was the wedding playlist that I “helped” put together for a wedding. I think that’s an excellent idea, since I hope that it can be helpful for other marriages (ten days and counting!). It’s also a gentle introduction back into the blog.
The bride picked out the vast majority of the music, and I made such awful suggestions that she assumed I was joking. With her help, and other music-lovers, we categorized each of the songs into six sections (described below).
We then created a table comparing each song to every other song in the list excluding itself and measuring comparative quantitative data such as difference in beats per minute and key dissonance, taking into account qualitative and subjective aspects such as theme and “heart”. Using this data, we assembled the playlist to maximize rockifiability and dancitude during the wedding reception.
Section 0 – Lead-In
The first five songs were chosen by the bride, starting with their wedding song. They waltzed gracefully, and we broke directly into the theme of the wedding reception (and wedding): “Let’s Get Down!”
0.01 Dean Martin – That’s Amore
0.02 Parliament – Give Up the Funk (Tear the Roof off the Sucker)
0.03 Kool and The Gang – Celebration
0.04 Stevie Wonder – Superstition
0.05 Usher – Yeah
Section 1 – Ramping Up
For the start of the party, you have a responsibility to include all the guests. The parents of the bride and groom will occasionally on the dance-floor, probably dancing with grandchildren, and they all want to have a good time. Plus, the well-paced wedding guest will only be feeling a slight buzzy glow at this point, so you don’t want anything too difficult.
1.01 Prince – 1999
1.02 Ricky Martin – Livin la Vida Loca
1.03 Bee Gees – You Should Be Dancing
1.04 Die Vikinger – Tiroler Polka
1.05 Sly and the Family Stone – Dance To the Music
1.06 Outkast – Hey Ya
1.07 (Couples) ABBA – I Do I Do I Do
1.08 Dead Or Alive – You Spin Me Round (Like A Record)
1.09 (Couples) Stevie Wonder – Isn’t She Lovely
1.10 Tom Jones – She’s a Lady
1.11 The Emotions – Best Of My Love
1.12 They Might Be Giants – The Guitar
1.13 (Couples) Frank Sinatra – The Way You Look Tonight
1.14 Beyonce Knowles ft. Jay-Z – Crazy In Love
1.15 Beastie Boys – Fight For Your Right
1.16 Boy George & Culture Club – Karma Chameleon
1.17 REM – What’s the Frequency, Kenneth
1.18 Jackson Five – ABC
1.19 Beatles – Twist And Shout
1.20 (Couples) Dean Martin – Mambo Italiano
1.21 B-52′s – Love Shack
1.22 Kool and The Gang – Jungle Boogie
Section 2 – We Like To Party
At this point, we’re solidly in the wedding reception.
2.01 Chic – Le Freak
2.02 Bee Gees – Stayin’ Alive
2.03 Prima – Swing Swing Swing
2.04 (Couples) Sarah Harmer – Tennessee Waltz
2.05 They Might Be Giants – Don’t Let’s Start
2.06 ABBA – Dancing Queen
2.07 Buckwheat Zydeco – Put It In The Pocket
2.08 Bobby Vinton – Beer Barrel Polka (Roll out the Barrel)
2.09 REM – Near Wild Heaven
2.10 (Couples) Dean Martin – Return To Me (Ritorna Me)
2.11 Stevie Wonder – For Once In My Life
2.12 (Couples) Beau Jacque & Zydeco High Rollers – Beau’s Cajun Two-Step
2.13 (Couples) Frank Sinatra – I Only Have Eyes For You
2.14 Earth, Wind and Fire – Shining Star
2.15 New Order – Temptation
2.16 Prince – Let’s Go Crazy
2.17 (Couples) Sarah Harmer – Open Window (The Wedding Song)
2.18 Tom Jones – It’s Not Unusual
2.19 Aerosmith – Sweet Emotion
2.20 Commodores – Brickhouse
2.21 Jackson Five – I want you back
Section 3 – Meat and Groovy
Natural selection has removed the children, the elderly, the feeble, and those with responsibilities. The night belongs to the guests sitting around the tables talking, laughing and drinking. And getting up to dance every now and then because you “love this song!” The music is interesting and engaging — it doesn’t need to be the sure-fire crowd-pleasers.
I was putting eyedrops in my eyes at half-hour intervals, so I’d leave the table and return making a gesture as if I was brushing powder off the bottom of my nose. Then I’d go to the open bar and order a round for as many people as I could take an order for, and if I couldn’t find them, that’s just too bad.
3.01 Parliament – Flash Light
3.02 New Order – Bizarre Love Triangle
3.03 ABBA – Does Your Mother Know
3.04 Cheap Trick – I Want You To Want Me
3.05 (Couples) They Might Be Giants – Another First Kiss
3.06 REM – The Sidewinder Sleeps Tonite
3.07 ACDC – You shook me all night long
3.08 Cameo – Word Up
3.09 Bob Marley – Could You Be Loved
3.10 (Couples) Al Green – Let’s Stay Together
3.11 Franz Ferdinand – Take Me Out
3.12 James Brown – Sex machine
3.13 Franz Ferdinand – The Dark Of The Matinée
3.14 Clash – Rock The Casbah
3.15 Hot Chocolate – You Sexy Thing
3.16 Beastie Boys – Body Movin’ (Fatboy Slim Remix)
3.17 Aerosmith – Love in an Elevator
3.18 Prince – Kiss
3.19 Soft Cell – Tainted Love
3.20 (Couples) Blue Rodeo – Head Over Heels
3.21 Black Eyed Peas – Where is the Love
3.22 Beck – Sexx Laws
3.23 Kiss – Rock And Roll All Night
3.24 Meat Loaf – Paradise by the Dashboard Light
Section 4 – Go Home. Go Now.
The party has to die down eventually, but nobody can be entirely sure when the die-hards are going home (although it’s typically just after the open bar closes). This section has great music that can keep the party going, but nothing that you’re going to miss if it gets cut off — which it will.
At this point, I believe I was eating all the sugar flowers that people picked off the wedding cupcakes. I was also sitting on this guy’s lap — he thought my “wife” had been flirting with him all night.
4.01 Dexy’s Midnight Runners – Come On Eileen
4.02 Peaches & Herb – Shake Your Groove Thing
4.03 (Couples) Marvin Gaye – Let’s get it on
4.04 (Couples) Blue Rodeo – Cynthia
4.05 Guns N’ Roses – Sweet Child O’ Mine
4.06 Rose Royce – Car Wash
4.07 (Couples) Stevie Wonder – You Are The Sunshine Of My Life
4.08 (Couples) Billy Bragg and Wilco – Hesitating Beauty
4.09 Prince- Raspberry Beret
4.10 Wham! – Wake Me up Before You Go Go
4.11 (Couples) Stevie Wonder – I Believe (When I Fall In Love It Will Be Forever)
4.12 Buckwheat Zydeco – Hard To Stop
4.13 Trammps – Disco Inferno
4.14 Madonna – Holiday
4.15 Neil Young – Harvest Moon
4.16 Stevie Wonder – Sir Duke
4.17 Michael Jackson – P. Y. T. (Pretty Young Thing)
4.18 (Couples) Johnny Cash – Ring of Fire
Section 5 – End Credits.
Although section 4 is designed to collapse to fit the end of the night, but we still want some control over the last songs people will hear before shoving off. These were carefully timed to provide exactly enough time for larcenous dawdlers to steal the centerpieces.
I really don’t remember if we actually got around to these. It was all pretty fuzzy at the end.
5.01 Tom Waits – Little Trip to Heaven (On the Wings of Your Love)
5.02 Blondie – Heart of Glass
5.03 Beastie Boys – Intergalactic
5.04 Norah Jones – Come Away With Me
5.05 Funkadelic – One Nation Under A Groove
I do remember saying good-bye to the bride and groom (in their civilian clothing), going to the hotel and dancing in my power underwear and tie while my friends ordered pizza (photographs available with any major credit card).
Working Hard? Why, yes, I am.
A blog entry that explains why there have been few blog entries and promises to make more is boring. And I propose that Avarice and Envy merge into a single Deadly Sin in order to make room for a new one: Boringness.
I’m not bored. I’m actually working hard, and it’s a lot of fun. In a big company, you can easily arrive at a certain mentality of going through all of the motions of work without actually, well, producing anything of value. We pretend to be useful and churn through versions of specifications, requirements and use cases, draw diagrams and models and discuss subsystem interactions and interfaces, and trends, and competitors, and tech analysis presentations . We say things because we like the way they sound when we say them, instead of because of their utility. We meet people so we can notch their names in our belt instead of for useful collaboration.
Screw that. Today, I want to be the Rock Star Programmer — I enjoy software development and I’m good at it. So I committed to a very aggressive schedule to produce a product with a firm idea, but a vague specification, in a language I don’t know (C#) and on a platform I’ve never used (Windows Mobile 2003).
It’s stressful, but it’s the good type of stress. I’m behind schedule, but I’ve gotten more done in the last few weeks than in the preceding year. I suspect that there won’t be any additional compensation for the effort, but the psychological advantage of actually doing something really does something for me.
One of the problems, of course, is that when you spend the day submerged in code — it isn’t easy to get out of it. I’m functionally handicapped, thinking at a low level appropriate for software running on a mobile phone. I tend to be impatient with everyone else, with their *social interactions* and *feelings*.
On the other hand, I’ve been consistently running in the forest. Six kilometres on Monday and eight on Wednesday. This really isn’t a social activity, but it’s a good way to let the brain and the eyes focus far beyond the computer screen, especially after a few weeks when you stop concentrating on your legs. It starts to be fun, and it makes you want more.
Plus roller hockey on Fridays, which is kick ass fun. I’m still not very good, but I’m keeping myself upright and the good players are very good about including the nincompoops.
And I went to the Foire d’Italy which was a big exposition on tourism, design and gastronomy in Italy. Mamma mia! Delicioso!
Also, there was a free concert with Maroon 5 and Nathalie Imbruglia, plus French stars such as Jenifer and De Palmas. We watched them under the Eiffel Tower.
I guess my point is that it’s all going well and the days are packed. And I’m not Bored.
Sure, and life is full of cross-therapeutic activities. If I’m not the most well-adusted person you know, then you must know pretty well-adjusted people, for I have had extensive dinner therapy last weekend.
It started with a cookbook of elegant apéros — finger foods and hors d’oeuvres. I suggested to The Italians that it would be interesting to put together a dinner party of only well-prepared (and well-adjusted) pretty little things to munch on. They agreed, and so we divided up the tasks over beers.
The therapy comes from finishing the chores that have been dragging out for weeks in the apartment. Vacuuming, picking up papers and putting them away, shopping for groceries, shaving, dusting and scouring. All of the neglected picking-up is picked up and placed — or at least hidden, which is a sort of therapy on it’s own.
And that’s not even including the cooking. I made parmesan lace chips, which are simple enough for any idiot while looking impressive. Mix grated parmesan cheese with a few chopped walnuts and drop pinches on parchment paper. Top with thyme and put in oven (setting: hot) until golden. Take out of oven. Anyone can do it and everyone should, it’s exciting!
I was also responsible for the bread, so I headed out to buy the best baguette in Paris. Literally. It’s not just a sale pitch; there’s a yearly contest and the winner supplies bread to the President of the Republic. Last year the boulangerie Le Four d’Augustin won. It is, in fact, noticeably good bread and it’s not significantly more expensive than other not-best baguettes.
I also finally bought a toaster, to make little toasts for Antonio’s sauces. He was making a tapenade which is a black olive and garlic paste, a creamy cheese spread, and a spicy vegetable dip.
I prepared the vegetables, and I prepared the hell out of them. I made a colourful roaster full of raw vegetables — celery and carrot sticks, broccoli, peppers of all colours, radishes, mushrooms and cocktail tomatoes. Vegetables take a long time to prepare, but you’re waving a knife around (and screaming like a howler monkey) so it counts as therapy. As does nanaimo bar preparation, thanks to the proximity to chocolate.
I killed a second bird with the same chocolate stone for the nanaimo bars, by preparing glasses for the dessert cocktail. The goal was to have carefully drizzled chocolate inside the glasses, but they turned out mostly smeared. I figured out the trick at the end — use a large wooden spoon dipped into the molten chocolate and let it start to slide off in a thin thread of chocolate. Then whip around the thread, not the spoon. That’ll drizzle your chocolate real good.
I put the glasses to chill in the crisper and mixed the mudslides (Kahlua, Bailey’s, vodka and cream in equal amounts).
I made 36 toothpicks of green olives, mozzarella and half tomatoes served with pesto on the side. A good pesto will list the percentage of basil, and will not contain potato or any oil but olive oil, or any nut but pine nuts. Amusingly enough, the best pesto I found was a French brand (Gault-Millau) — all of the Italian imports had cheaper replacement ingredients at the same price! I had some fresh basil, so I chopped it up and added it to make super-premium pesto, which is a totally cheating way to make your store-bought pesto look home-made.
The mozzarella was not just real mozzarella, but real REAL mozzarella. I found a little place that sells mozzarella da bufala, which means that it’s not made from cow milk.
And finally, grilled chicken skewers with satay sauce or teriyaki sauce. I had to borow the indoor electric grill, but it was so nice to use that I might end up getting one of my own.
The Italians also brought a zucchini tart, three spaghetti pies, which are delicious and can be eaten with the fingers, and a tuna spread (a family recipe!)
We were seven in total, and barely made a dent on the food. This part is my favourite, the conversation therapy. I like these people, the wine was nice and the ambiance was very warm. It feels really good — quite an accomplishment.
In conclusion, some of us took the leftovers to a picnic on the Pont des Arts the next day, which was much the same thing but with singing German students.
Life is problematic. Work is hard. Taxes are complicated. That special someone is elusive. Everything costs more than you expected. You have arguments that you don’t really care about. The entropy of your living space eternally tends toward filthy.
Obviously, you need therapy. Even if you don’t need therapy, you need this therapy. If you’re already getting therapy, congratulations, good luck and please add djembé-playing to your mental health routine.
I started African drumming a week ago. Another Canadian expatriate invited me out to Versaille to for a lesson. It’s a very small association — one instructor, three or four experts for support, two or three intermediate players and four or five beginners. We sit in a single circle, legs wrapped around our djembé and play together, taking turns playing the phrases we’re learning, or playing an accompaniment. The other experts play the dunduns, the three bass drums that provide a backbone for the music.
Last week, I started with just the accompaniment. BOOM-bada BOOM-bada BOOM-bada: a single bass note with the flat right hand, followed by a right-left strike on the edge of the drum skin with the fingers closed. Over and over and over:
R . r l R . r l
It sounds so simple — the rhythm couldn’t be much easier and the hands are right-left-right, repeat. When you start in the circle, however, it takes up 100% of your conscious brain to keep a consistent beat in sync with all the others.
It gets harder with the more complicated phrases. In addition to the bass and the strike, there’s also a slap on the edge of the drum with the fingers open. The first phrase I learned was:
r l . L rx . R . rx . . L rx . R .
which is sixteen half beats. Notice that the right hand always plays on the beat. The capital letters are bass notes in the centre, and the small letters are strikes at the edge. I added an x if it’s a slap instead of a strike, but it’s still difficult to make a difference between the two at this stage.
The next phrase is a variation:
r l . L rx . R . rx . rx lx rx lx rx .
So while half the group is playing the BOOM-bada accompaniment, the other half is alternating the two variations on the first phrase. The dunduns are playing a cool rhythm and the leader cues people in and out with a special rhythm (a ‘call’) that you quickly learn to recognize inside all the rest of the noise. If you’ve ever seen a drumming circle going all out and suddenly stopping on a dime in complete synchronization, this is how they do it.
We learned another phrase, but it has triplets to I’m not going to transcribe it here. We have two or three more phrases to learn and practice and we’ll have finished our first song — Lolo. I’m not sure if we’re going to learn the dundun parts as well, since they involve both hands playing separate rhythms.
The pleasure comes from sitting in the circle, either grooving on the accompaniment, or trying a complicated phrase and getting it wrong, and wrong, and off-beat and with the wrong hands. You struggle with it, and get it right once and wrong a dozen times again, even though you can hear the right beat in your head. Then it comes together and it’s right, and suddenly you’re listening to the correct beat and it’s surprising to realize that it’s you. The drum sings like a bell, and it’s a bit like life.
In conclusion, musical instruments are expensive and drumming circles aren’t just for hippies although they are welcome to play as long as they don’t stink up the place.
A great article on the delights of eating things you don’t like! Of course, this is targeted to some of you more than others (you know who you are)…
It’s worth reading, but here’s the summary: biologically, we are all omnivores, capable of eating (and appreciating) far more than we typically do. Pickiness about food is a learned trait, but can be unlearned through repeated exposure. The magic number is eight to ten times.
I can personally attest to this. At one point in my life, I was physically repulsed by seeing someone bite into a raw tomato like an apple. Now I eat raw tomatoes nearly daily in my salad at the cantine.
The first few times I had sushi with workmates, I could barely gag down a california roll, although that could be the fault of the jerks I worked with and their snickering, clumsy-handed initiation into the world of wasabi. How many years of delicious Japanese cuisine did I miss thanks to you? How many teriyaki chicken box lunches did I eat instead of boats of delicate and aesthetic seafood?
To be fair, when you’re an experienced sushi eater, it’s easy to forget that the virgin palate is a delicate thing that should be gently introduced to the joyful power of wasabi. You asshats.
The first eight to ten times I drank a bitter aperatif (Campari, Amero, Suze), I have to admit that politeness was a more important factor in getting it down than taste or enjoyment. Now bitter liquers are a true pleasure — I can’t wait to get my hands on more Becherovka (a surprisingly cinnamony herbal booze from the Czech Republic).
The foods I still dislike include:
* Blood sausage.
* Liver, although most offal is also on the list (kidney, tongue, sweetmeats, etc). Oddly enough, gizzard isn’t any problem for me.
* Andouillette, a French sausage made of smoked intestine.
* Caraway and Cumin seed: specifically on bread and disgusting Dutch cheeses.
* Sambuca. Ouzo. Pastis. Black licorice and anise.
* Tomato juice. Tomato juice with clam broth.
* Deep-fried Zucchini.
There’s my list. I’m going to conquer them!
Alright, so it turns out that Beautiful People get more than fifteen minutes. As it turns out, they’re actually better at everything (and everyone) they do. Who knew? For the pretty faces that just got bad news from a certain Finnish phone manufacturer, keep your spirits up! Apparently, people over 6’2″ make up about 4% of the population, but nearly a third of CEOs.
But I’d like to talk about something much less superficial, something closer to home. Fashion is transient. Today it’s a dark velvet blazer over an untucked shirt and jeans, tomorrow it’ll be carefully sheveled anti-bohemian tweeds. There’s more important things than how you look on the outside.
Of course, I’m speaking about underwear.
Let’s discard the boxers right away. They are flappy, bunchy monstrosities. The only way to make them more uncomfortable would be to make them out of flannel so that they can be itchy and sweaty as well. The only reason to have them is if you’re trying to conceive, or if your girlfriend wants to borrow them (note that I’ve solved both those problems quite neatly).
One of the alternatives is boxer-briefs, which are fitted boxers providing ample coverage for modesty and comfortable support. I’m currently firmly in this category — I picked a cheap brand (Hanes) and a couple dozen pairs in a variety of colours. I avoid white because they’re too difficult to keep looking new, especially without a dryer.
The problem, of course, is that I have skinny chicken legs, so boxer-briefs end up being baggy anyway. God forbid that you ever see me in spandex. Combine that with the fact that I can actually afford nice underwear — well, obviously it’s time for a change.
A very wise friend once said that you should never underestimate the importance of power underwear.
For those of you that aren’t horrified by underwear models, there’s a good selection here and here. Comments? Opinions? What’s the deal with microfiber?
Sometimes the episodes of The Tinfoiled Show have an ending, sometimes they don’t. The storyline progresses anyway.
Here’s some developments in the storylines, some of which I’ve already blogged about.
1. I sent my Freebox back and resubscribed to the France Telecom service. At this point, Freebox acknowledged the return of the modem and started charging me the monthly fee. They hadn’t started charging me earlier because the service was never, ever connected.
Thankfully, I had sent a letter to the bank objecting to any automatic withdrawals from Free ADSL.
2. I’m staying in my apartment for the moment. My landlords found a better place for their daughter. I had a bit of a dispute with them at this news — they were surprised that I was upset about their lack of consideration. They apologized profusely.
I’m still keeping my eyes open for someplace better, and I’m not relying on this apartment for the rest of my stay in Paris — but I’m not leaving in the short term.
3. My mix CD has been permanently disrupted by an influx of very good music: the new Beautiful South (re-interpreted cover tunes), back to Depeche Mode, Lambchop, Damien Rice and Mylo. And I had just about finished the cover art.
Just a teaser — the tentative title of the mix was “It Gets Thrills to the Table on Time” and, as usual, included more than it’s share of ironic misogyny. I think I’ll be moving it in another direction.
4. My plans to buy an iPod Shuffle when I was in Canada were foiled by the delay in the launch date. Why doesn’t anyone ever come to Paris in the spring?
5. I returned to 8 hours of sleep when I got a cold. Plus I took Cold-FX tablets. It seems to have passed by with nothing more than a tickle in the throat, but I’m staying at 8 hours this week.
6. Running: on track. I’ve been doing six kilometres (untimed) twice a week through the forest at work. Rollerblading: mostly on track — I did the 3 hour randonnée through Paris two weeks ago, but missed last week. I hate going by myself, so I’m going to join an association (and take some lessons) either this summer or in the fall when I get back from Canada. Aikido: going to my first lesson on Monday, in order to decide whether it’s interesting.
Actually, rollerblading and the randonnée are sufficiently interesting to warrant another entry. Some other time.
7. Exfoliation: once weekly. I don’t know if it actually does that much, but it feels good.
8. Don’t try and solve this image puzzle because it is too cool for words and will suck up your time. There’s fifteen stages, and I’m currently stuck at eight — but I’m supremely proud for having passed stage five!
So, you’re pretty much up to date.
GKarlsen
Holy Smokes!!!
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