I Have My Days…
Of my days Friday was typically atypical. It started off with a bang when I found $20 at Caribou Coffee Friday morning, and ended with one when a package containing CDs arrived in the post. In between there was work, a brutal commute home, and a fairly poor attempt at making meatloaf (don’t expect pictures of this one).
On Friday night I decided not to brave the sub-freezing cold and make my first trip to Lenny‘s to see
A Fir Ju Well Gringo Star. I vow to see them before they toddle off to jolly old England however.
Instead I stayed indoors and decided to listen to some of the CDs which had arrived earlier. Here is where I got stupid for a moment. My dilemma was deciding which computer I would use to listen to the music
– the old Windows laptop has a broken CD drive, no dice there
– the iBook’s speakers suck, I’ll never get a quality listen
– the server doesn’t have speakers connected to it now, perhaps I could rip the CDs and listen on the network
And then it hit me… Hey Einstein, why not use one of those crazy devices used to you stereo, you know, the things you called CD PLAYERS when you were young oh so many years ago!? I felt like a complete moron.
There Is Nothing Like A Set Of Fresh Batteries
I nearly completely ruined the meatloaf Friday night because I was relying on my Polder thermometer to record the internal temperature of the loaf. Regardless of how long the loaf had been baking I knew that once the internal temperature reached 155-degrees, it was done. After forty-five minutes in a 325-degree oven the internal temperature read 50-degrees. Even a person who can’t remember to use a CD player to play CDs could figure that something was not right. Oh I bet you are thinking that I forgot to turn on the oven. Puuuuleeeaaase, give me some credit. No, it seems that if you want the temperature portion of the thermometer to function properly you need to change the battery every few years.
On Friday night it seemed that every device which required batteries that I touched needed new ones. Later the tv remote started acting up. A thirty-minute recharge of its batteries fixed it nicely.
I’m telling you, it was just one of those days.
I Hate It When A Plan Falls Apart
“They are saying Louvre, not loser.” said the man next to me in line. Due to circumstances beyond my control my High Museum group outing turned into a solo affair. Hell, I even failed trying to give away my unused tickets.
For all of the hype the Louvre exhibit garnished I was expecting great things. After all, the Louvre is the mother of all museums (imho). The exhibit was contained within the three new floors of the new wing of the High. The bottom layer contains bust sculptures in marble and bronze. The first floor was mostly drawings, some of which had never been exhibited before (perhaps because they weren’t impressive enough to be shown at the Louvre? I guess it depends on whether you glass is half empty of full. The top floor (skyway level?) consisted of bronze sculptures and paintings (oh, and how I could I forget — the gift shop).
Navigating the exhibit was like and exercise in rush hour traffic. The movement was bumper-to-bumper from painting-to-painting with an occasional asshole cutting in front of you.
While I will never confuse the High for the Metropolitan Museum of Art, I was expecting to have a better time.
ITP Flickr Pic
The Painful Member (ask a hasher if you don’t know why we call it that), complete with icicles provided by Mother Nature
I Am The King Of Pain
Well now I’ve done it. Yesterday I decided that I needed exercise and couldn’t possibly miss another Black Sheep Hash. I missed the last one and I am planning on missing the next, so it was imperative that I attend this one.
While running happily through the woods which surround Stone Mountain I nearly turned my left ankle, but in my recovery slammed my right foot into a immovable rock which lurked underneath leaves, hurtling me face-forward to the ground. Fear not, my near Brad Pitt good looks went unharmed, but I did manage to do some damage to the big toe of my right foot (and the big toe is the captain of the toes, you know). Broken? Probably not, it still moves. Fractured? I doubt it. Jammed and Bruised? Yes, definitely.
Hurting myself running hashes is no new phenomena. However this is doubly-damning because my toe really hurts and this was the week that I was going to try and run at lunch-time in order to train for the ING Half Marathon which is in late March.
It’s A Flickr Holiday
Tonight is the Atlanta Flickr Holiday party. Over sixty photogs will be gathering at Front Page News in Little 5 Points to share food, drinks, and stories about photo ops that got away. If you are in the area and are into seeing a bunch of photogeeks we’ll be easy to spot — we’ll be the large group with cameras. And if you are looking for me I’ll be the guy in the greenish-black fleece pullover hobbling around on a gimpy right foot.
And now for some ideas stolen from LiveJournal…
Current Mood – hurting
Current Music – Sirius Satellite Radio, Channel 26 playing Fiona Apple — “Parting Gift”
Website Of The Day – If you are into food, more specifically the science behind food, then News for Curious Cooks is the blog for you.
Training Target – 5 mile run
Exercise (b)Log – I did the Black Sheep hash and may have ended my ability to train