Last night, I cooked for the first time in quite a while. I made a chipotle crab risotto with freshly grated asiago cheese and topped with cilantro. It worked out, but I get the feeling that I could have done better. Maybe I am out of practice. Maybe I need an audience for inspiration. If that is the case, I need to get over it.
I have been watching Pinky and the Brain DVDs that I received from Netflix. Tonight, I might watch some Alfred Hitchcock Presents.
I just finished José Saramago’s Blindness. I am about to read Dashiell Hammett’s The Thin Man. Or perhaps, the sequel to Blindness called Seeing. Then again, there is always Fluke by Christopher Moore or Twain’s The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn.
I am debating about music. I might take out Dulcinea. Then again, I might go to the guitar shop in Santa Fe and pick up a new instrument. Maybe a banjo, a twelve string guitar, or a ukelele. I could learn “The Rainbow Connection” or “Hotel California” or “Somewhere Over the Rainbow/What a Wonderful World.” Then again, I could get back to my attempt to transcribe Handel’s Messiah into classical guitar. Or play Beethoven’s “Moonlight Sonata” on Dulcinea. No need to spend a lot of money when I have plenty of challenges already here …
Or I could take out my harmonica and try to become serious about my blues playing. Right now, I am humorous at best.
Friends have invited me to go to the Grand Canyon with them this weekend. I am seriously considering it. I have never been and it is someplace that I have always wanted to go.
Hello, cruel world. I feel kind of odd. I stretch my fingers to the light and listen to the rasplecrackle of unused joints. Or maybe it is the brittle sunlight hitting the autumn leaves. It is hard to tell sometimes.