Well folks, today it is snowing here in Colorado. It's beginning to look alot like a freak mix of seasons, as most of the trees have not yet changed. I will say that the aspens look beautiful whether they have green leaves, yellow leaves or snow on them. What a fantastic tree. Sarah says I'm a geek because I like trees and birds. I guess it's more than the fact that I like them... I have this odd desire to remember their names, and things about them. I don't remember doing that as a kid. Maybe something's wrong with me.
Sarah's been feeling ill for about a week and a half now. She gets sick in the morning, and doesn't like eating much. For those of you who know her, that's somewhere near death for her. I decided that maybe she needed some chicken soup, so yesterday, I made some soup. I started with water, some chicken boulion, some chicken I grilled, celery and onion. I added some spices, and left it in the crockpot to steep for awhile. I then added a little more than a cup of rice. Mistake. After about 4 hours, (In my mind, a good amount of time for a soup... having 0% soup making experience) the rice had gone beyond soft and tasty, (approx. 2 hrs.) to being highly absorbant. When I returned to the crockpot around hour number 4, the rice had successfully absorbed all of the fluid in the pot, and had turned into something resembling grits. Grits are good, but not chicken flavored grits with pieces of celery in them. We called it gruel, and I bravely ate about 4 ounces of it, before pouring the whole fiasco into a bag and hauling it off to the trash. This accounts for the second cooking fiasco of my married career. And I must say, out of four years, two incidents aint bad! The whole thing reminded me of a book I read as a youngster in which a sailing ship hauling rice as cargo sprung a leak, and the rice inflated and blew the ship apart by its boards. This was much less dramatic, and involved celery and a crockpot, but the stories are otherwise identical. In my defense, I tried to come up with an idea of restoring the gruel to a state of edibility. But to no avail.
Oh, I should probably say something about my new store. I am now full time at the Garden of the gods Starbucks. The workers and customers are great! I really like the crew, and while drive through poses some really big challenges, I'm sure I'll get accustomed soon enough. Some possible "feet in" for Sarah have popped up in the last week or so. My district manager Ed, knows a head honcho over at Cook Publishing, and he met with his friend yesterday, and gave him Sarah's resume. Hopefully it will lead to something lucrative for her. In the meantime, a tutoring position may open up for her that would pay around $30 an hour! Pretty awesome!
Anyway, I can't really think of anything more to say for now, so I'll let you all go. Enjoy your day, and know that we miss you.
Peace,
Jim
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By the way, the ship exploding story was from "Hornblower & The Hotspur" by CS Forester, in case anyone wants to know. Horatio Hornblower was a family "item" for many years in our home when Jim was a kid. In fact, Gene Roddenberry said that Hornblower was part of his design for Captain Kirk, of Star Trek fame.
Just a bit of parenthetical history... DLM
this tale of rice on a ship reminded me of an essay i read about the word shit and how it came to be... well... way ach when being that of a long time ago when manure had tto be shipped across sea for fertalizer... well from time to time the these old wooden ships would have a leak or two and these leaks would get the dry manure wet and gasses would be produced... and after this happened from time to time someone would go down to the cargo area at night to check up on everything and light up a lantern and what do you know the whole ship would blow up... many ships were actually lost this way and for no aparent reason... eventually they discovered why these ships were exploding and they eventually started labelling the cargo as "Store High In Transit" or S.H.I.T. for short.....
well now you know that shit is just a way or saying you want it higher... maybe not
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