Cod dinner!

Last night, *the boy* [I am forbidden to use his real name, the wimp] and I went to our local Trader Joe's, during rush hour no doubt. Without an ounce of inspiration de repas, we left with a mishmash of strange food products which was then magically transformed, by me, into a veritable thanksgiving feast of oven-baked cod, potatoes au gratin, cauliflower, and "Italian Medly" beans. This meal, a delightful change of pace for male-partner, was reminscent, for me, of midwestern church food . . . transporting the cosmopolite back to her modest youth of Wednesday dinners in "Fellowship Hall," where my favorite treat was the warmed dinner rolls. Since I was cute back then, Mr. Shaumann, who manned the roll-warmer, would sneak two on my plate, a much appreciated trespass since I would most often refuse the main liver and onions entrée. In any case, the nameless he with whom I live related to me the contents of a curious little book he's currently reading about how cod and their mating habits and travel patterns have had an historical impact on the migration and general whereabouts of European peoples. Who would have thought?

The ever expanding geography of friendship

Raphaelle, who has recently married and moved to Santa Barbara, breezed through the Cruz to bestow greetings to her hoodlum friends left stranded in central coast. We were all stunned at her southern California glow and blond, feathery bangs, no longer certain of our status, paled as we must have been by the sophisticated lights of L.A. She left and I shed a knowing tear, sure that our fast-forward friendship was soon to be lost to sunnier, glitzier lands . . . Just kidding. It was great to see her and she helped me figure this "posting" business out. The *real* point is that, at this stage, most of my friends are no longer within a two-mile radius of ME and that maybe this personal journal, whine-space will cut the distance a bit. That is, if they too start feeling the need to whine on-line, which I doubt since most of them have each other to whine to in person. In the meantime, I'm not quite sure how I want to use this space, in what capacity I need it: academically, emotionally, frivolously. It will most likely act as a mirror of sorts, where I can narcissistically read my own life in print and thus be struck by the grandeur of myself! be warned, hapless reader.