July, July

I have not made a difference in the world, in July.

July has been about ice cream. Softball. Weeknight gatherings with friends. Running. Reading. Planning trips. Salads.

I've made plans to leave the world better than I found it, in September. Seeking out a new volunteer opportunity -- fall. Learning how to sew -- fall. Resuming my bread-baking education -- fall.

July has been too damn hot to change the world.

But, as a small token of redemption, as the last hours of July tick away, I offer you what I've learned this month.

New author: Elizabeth Gilbert. Her three books are completely diverse (travel/personal discovery memoir Eat, Pray, Love, Maine lobster island fiction Stern Men, true story of a real wilderness man The Last American Man) but equally good. Other fun books: nonfiction What the World Eats, rainy day comfort reading/my favorite young adult series, the Alice McKinley books by Phyllis Naylor.

Ice cream: Mix 2 cups superfine sugar, 1 quart buttermilk, 1/8 tsp salt, 1/2 cup freshly squeezed lemon juice, 2 T lemon zest. Chill. Put in ice cream maker. Unbelievably fabulous. Much greater than the sum of its parts.

Running: Much as I many years ago finally discovered the Golden Mean in carrying a canoe (i.e. that precise balanced angle that makes the canoe not hurt), I'm beginning to discover the Golden Mean in running (i.e. as I increase mileage I can still pretty much run at the same pace throughout, and the middle mile is always the hardest). Plus I have new muscles in my legs and butt (which is a little disturbing, I have to say... having your butt feel different. But alas, it looks the same.)

A day of firsts

Today, for the first time in my life, I called in sick.

I've certainly left early feeling unwell, heck, I've even puked in my office trash can on more than one occasion.* But on a typical morning I spring out of bed, trip lightly down the hall, and greet the day with good cheer.

But this headache insisted, demanded that I stay put. Just try to drive to work, it taunted.

Feeling guilty, I showered and tried to convince myself that I was better. But finally I gave up, called into work, and settled my be-robed and wet-headed self on the couch with the cats. Three hours later I woke up. Vindicated, I thought, I'm really sick! I deserved to stay home!

Another nap later and I was better. That left plenty of time to run errands with Husband and have another first: my first Chipotle. My long standing hatred of the place was worn down by apathy and a craving for beans. Damn them.

All this leads me to wonder...
What magic adventures will tomorrow bring?

*Given a really empty stomach, citrus + yogurt = a fine substitute for ipecac.

Life lines

It occurred me today, after reading in the excellent book Eat, Pray, Love how the author had her palm read extremely accurately by a man in Indonesia, to read my own palm. I've only had this done once, in a train hurling across the Saskatchewan prairie, by a boy with a pack of tarot cards and a bag of CoffeeGo. After reading my friend's palms, I offered him my own, and watched as I sucked away at the coffee candy. He opened his mouth to speak and then shoved my hand away, saying that he wouldn't read it. I gathered that there was something inauspicious about my hand, but didn't ask. Instead, I asked for a tarot reading, and learned that blond haired man would soon enter my life. Sadly, he was wrong.

A little searching around on the Internet confirmed what I suspected: I have a short, or broken, life line. Serious illness or calamity was headed my way.

I thought about this for awhile, then searched again, hitting upon Wikipedia. Surely a reliable source in this unreliable field, it dispelled any myths about early deaths.

So thus, I will not die soon. Good to know.