Head Cold. Nasal drip. Nagging cough. Light nausea. Friday the 13th. Feels about right.
6:10 am. Cove Island Park. 192 days. Consecutive, and getting long in the tooth.
45° F. Wind gusts up to 25 mph. Drizzle. Wet. Cold.
Cloud cover: 100%. Like a million %.
M-G: You’re dragging.
DK: It’s that obvious?
M-G: Snarky too.
M-G: COVID?
DK: Can’t be.
M-G: How’s that?
DK: Hood Brand Ice Cream Sandwiches.
M-G: Ice Cream Sandwiches? [Read more…]
You cannot be grateful without possessing a past. That is why children are incapable of gratitude and why night prayers and dinner graces are lost on them. “Gobbles Mommy, Gobbles Grandpa …” George races through it. She has no reference points. As I get older the past widens and accumulates, all sloppy landlessness like a river, and as a result I have more clearly demarcated areas of gratitude. Things like ice cream or scenery or one good kiss become objects of a huge soulful thanks. Nothing is gobbled. This is a sign of getting old.
~ Lorrie Moore, from “Anagrams”
Notes: Quote – Thank you Beth @ Alive on All Channels. Photo: Korean froyo. by Jennifer Nguyen
What do you excel at?
A) Habitual repeating. (Professional kind)
Consistent, effective execution. Compulsive in following through on commitments. Dependable. You can count on him.
And that’s life isn’t it, the antithesis of what makes you effective at “A”, makes you a disaster a “B”.
B) Habitual repeating, in bulk. (Personal kind. Random, exculpatory list below.)
How many times can you spout on about the same sh*t? Let’s see. Let’s use metaphors, not your own of course. Because that would take talent, effort. How many times? Richard Powers, “A thousand—a thousand thousand—green-tipped, splitting fingerlings.”
So here we go again. [Read more…]
Source: Chippy enjoyed a fruit-flavored ice treat at Blair Drummond Safari Park near Stirling, Scotland, to cool off during the hot weather. (Andrew Milligan, wsj.com June 28, 2018)
Here we go again.
Up 10 lbs in less than 30 days. No walking, no step challenges, no running, no elliptical, no treadmill. How easy to Quit. Devilishly insidious. One day. And then a week. A Month. And counting. How fast it all comes apart.
Laying in bed, skimming blog posts, RSS feeds, morning papers – words skittering by, wispy clouds, digesting nothing. I pull the covers up. I’ll run this afternoon. Maybe. Sure I will. No I won’t.
I’m out the door, Running.
Mile 1: Cool, 50 F. Lower back stiff. Legs heavy. Can’t see 3 miles today. Hell, not sure I can see the end of 2.
Mile 2: Lower back loosening. Legs heavy. Stomach queasy. 7:30 PM yesterday. Snack run to Palmer’s Grocery. I cut through the rows to the freezer aisle. I wipe the condensation off the glass. Eyes move from Brand to Brand to Brand. Momentary calm settles in. I grab a pint of Häagen-Dazs Mint Chip Ice Cream. And then a pint of Talenti Gelato Mediterranean Mint. And then something called Graeter’s Handcrafted French Pot Mint Chocolate Chip. And a quart of Edy’s mint Chocolate Chip. Yep, 4 containers of Mint Chocolate Chip. [Read more…]
It doesn’t matter what time of day. My digestif after scrambled eggs at breakfast. A satisfying and necessary fulfiller after lunch. A smooth finisher after dinner. A soothing pre-bed, night time snack. And of course, that something-something between meals.
There it is.
Mint-Chocolate Chip Gelato.
I’m in line at the check-out counter at Palmer’s Market, gripping four (4) cylindrical containers of Talenti Gelato, two pints in each hand. The ice crystals cool the palm of my hand, and I wonder how long it took to ship this gelato from some quaint dairy farm in Southern Italy. A farm that’s been in the same family for hundreds of years. Farm-fresh from cow to these hard plastic cylinders to the freezer at Palmer’s Market, with all of the hand made manufacturing processes in-between. (Gelato, gelato, I find myself repeating gelato and liking it, especially the finish. My lips form an “o” like “o” isn’t this “o” so wonderful).
I move up in line, gently setting the gelatos down on the conveyor. They slide forward.
“Pennsylvania native Oriana Kacicek, 29, spent her early years in a nurturing environment of great art, dance, music and literature. Inspired and encouraged by her mother, also a painter, she began painting and drawing at the age of one and continued the practice throughout her teenage years. Influenced by the light and color of the European Impressionist and Dutch painters, Oriana’s hyper-realist style is infused with wit and energy. “I’ve discovered that all art forms are fundamentally the same; they are about revealing truth and beauty, demand the utmost in time and attention, and must be grounded in good technique. I aspire to create paintings that are full of joy, color and light.” (Source: Oriana Kacicek)
Source: My Modern Met
