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Links LUPEC |
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this morning i am embracing the cold just a little bit. i am generally happy about the cold once i get outside in my long sleeves and warm tights and chi chi coat, but that in between the bed and the coat time is a real corker. Normally on mornings like this i get out of bed and crank the heat up to 80 and sit around being cross until it is hot enough to shower. Today I am trying the cold morning way, to see if it really does produce clearheaded thinking, like I was told last night. Because after last night I need all the help to clear my head I can get. Made two lovely soups, a clowny minestrone and a perfect potato and ham. I say perfect not to be big headed but because I was told in great deal and rhapsodic prose how perfect it was. It was a triumph of the souparty, if you will. I made garlic breadsticks(from a bag) Roomie brought beers. I sat and read and smoked and waited, and around nine I started to despair that all this lovely soup was going to go to waste. But right around nine the goldenboy showed, and soon after the artworldtravellingirl, with tales of her trip to Berlin. We had soup and talk and then my favorite boy arrived and he was wearing the german pimp hat AND the greatcoat with the furry collar where I like to lay my face sometimes. There was general wackiness and mayhem, the new wave king and his cute little punk rock girlfriend came, and we listened to Tricky and had a blast. Most of the soup was et and most of the people cleared out by 11pm. Hoorah. From 11pm to 1am I was engaged in fierce head to head conversation and beer drinking with my favorite boy. It was sort of like we had not seen each other in seven years, although we saw each other less than 72 hours ago. We had a very soul cleansing talk about the war and the government. We talked about gardening and drum and bass and death metal and preparing the house for winter and how to make the plants more happy. We didn't stop talking until the last beer was gone, and then we were still talking about cold mornings and flannel sheets and then we were wrapping our arms around each other and kissing goodnight and then STILL we were talking all the way to the door and then is when I got the poetry about the potato soup. A good night, a sleepy morning. I would still rather be in the flannel sheets. |
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