There’s a supermarket in my hometown that offers an odd mashup of Middle Eastern and Mexican food. Went there a couple of times. (Carne asada tacos for breakfast!) Terrific aguas frescas and tacos.
And they have keto tamales. Didn’t try them, but they looked interesting.
Now that I’m frozen shut inside my home for much of the day, I can post foodie snapshots of my short visit to California.
First stop from the airport: In-N-Out. And yes, I shelved my intermittent fasting and vaguely vegan-before-6 routines during my visit.
Home late after 4 days in San Diego to spend time with family. Reserved taxi flaked on me, so I ended up using Lyft for the first time. Happy to report it was a success.
Traveling with a doped-up Shih tzu on the flight home. Wish I had what it’s having. I hate flying.
Heading home after a last-minute short trip to see family. The Pokemon buddy is trying to board a little too early.
I have a cat. I like cats. That said, I will still read a story with the headline “Compelling new evidence that your cat might eat your corpse.”
I stopped reading at the words “moist decomposition,” though.
“I find myself moving away from my originally more simplistic approach of setting hard time limits to screen time, and trying to focus instead on finding balance, and seeking opportunities for meaningful family interactions wherever we can make them.”
So far as I can tell, all contemporary pop country songs involve picking up chicks in cutoffs at a bar and taking them in your truck to a fishing hole to drink beer and see the stars.
“‘Poodle is the worst dog to spin,’ Ms. Furrer said of the notoriously difficult matted curls. ‘I was like, “If I can get this poodle, I can do anything.”’”
“Here’s How to Keep Your Cat Forever” (N.Y. Times)
Happy New Year, air travelers leaving Chicago.
When the usher lady cheerfully tells me that they sing the “fun music” at this Mass, it’s clearly not my usual place of worship.
As someone far more at home with incense, Latin, and pipe organ hymns, the tambourine use this evening may have pushed me over the edge.
“He was in many ways like an outsider — the guy who was often different from everyone else. But that was okay with him. He didn’t want to be like everyone else. He just wanted to be Neil. He loved being a rock drummer, but he also loved literature. He loved poetry. He loved the outdoors. He didn’t care what society thought a rock star was ‘supposed to be’ — he wasn’t afraid to be himself, and he didn’t really care about fame. He just wanted to be good at what he did — and he was! — and he just wanted to share his music with the fans.” — Donna Halper, media historian and former broadcaster credited with getting Rush their U.S. record deal, to NPR News (italics above mine)
I’ve never been much of a Rush fan; I could never get past Geddy Lee’s vocals. But I can understand why so many rock fans are saddened by the loss of Neil Peart. (I watched this unbelievable, nearly 9-minute drum solo twice yesterday and realized that yeah, this guy was kind of a big deal.)
Even more, I find myself admiring his intellect and sense of self as I read more about him. And the outsider thing I emphasized above really, really spoke to me. Even in situations when I was vaguely an insider, I have felt like an outsider. Only now, at this point in my life, am I truly okay with that.
Godspeed, Mr. Brilliant Drummer and Writer I Only Learned About Yesterday.
Someone has wandered into the home office as I clean it. She clearly disapproves of its disheveled state.
Yeah, I know, eating out twice in one day. We’re usually pretty good about dining at home. But with downpours and/or sleet this weekend, we’re getting our restaurant ya-yas out now.
When you have a day off work on a meatless Friday, Indo-Pakistani food is necessary.
I generally am trying to avoid political posts, but I really am enjoying pushing this guy off a cliff. Repeatedly.
“Ms. Wurtzel … was well cast to serve as a face for a generation that the news media perpetually cast as nihilistic and irony-suffused — latchkey kids whose prospects were dimmed by recession and an America in decline.”
“Give me a Sandwich and a Douchebag, and there is nothing I cannot do!” #RIPBuckHenry
My list of go-to sites varies from week to week, but the (relatively) new Far Side site is becoming a necessary respite for me in an insane world.
“Magic 8 Ball answers for middle age” (McSweeney’s)
A New York Times graphic artist got to count squirrels in Central Park. I want that gig.
The YouTuber known as PewDiePie is on record as calling Twitter a “cesspool.” And true to his word, he’s deleted his Twitter account (with more than 19 million followers). Here’s why.
“The paper’s claim to fame is that (Mark) Twain once wrote there while hiding out from the law.”
“Restart the presses: California’s oldest weekly newspaper saved” (L.A. Times)
The Washington Post asks: “Can Shane Claiborne’s progressive version of evangelical Christianity catch on with a new generation?” I’m Catholic (and an erstwhile evangelical), but I’m still rooting for him.
News we can use: “The microgrid would make the power grid more resilient to storms — and squirrels” (Vox)