Happy Inauguration Day

Semi-quiet day at home. In the morning I did a bunch of chores, which made me feel productive enough to lie around for two hours around lunch time. I watched a little bit of the newly sworn in president make the customary inauguration speech. I was unmoved. Rako's bravado got him into a bizarre tug-of-war with Ludwig. In this case, the would-be rope was Rako's face. A short, deep wound now runs down his upper lip. To avoid panic among certain readers, I will try not to mention that I think I could see the inside of his mouth through the wound. Lem assures me that dogs are resilient, but I continue to worry. Rako is napping under the study table, mending.

This afternoon, I read a little bit and thought about the rest of the week. Today feels a little bit like a Sunday, which would make tomorrow a Monday. That is a depressing thought. I'm trying not to get carried away by the sudden slump. Popped in an old DVD of the first (and only) season of Kitchen Confidential. Bradley Cooper is amusing when he is neurotic. It's a shame the series ended too soon, but I suppose the exploits of the real thing are entertainment enough. My friend Hanna lent me her copy of A Cook's Tour. I've taken a hungry bite out of the first few chapters, where Bourdain recounts the slaying of a fattened pig in Portugal. He writes:

I learned, for the first time, that I could indeed look my food in the eyes before eating it - and I came away from the experience, I hope, with considerably more respect for what we call "the ingredient." I am more confirmed than ever in my love for pork, pork fat, and cured pork. And I am less likely to waste it. That's something I owe the pig for. I know now what a pork chop costs in terms of the living, breathing thing that was killed to supply it.

At eight o'clock tonight, I plan to watch Roger Federer play Tommy Berdych in the Men's Quarterfinals. Kim Clijsters took out Justine Henin and later fell to the younger Vera Zvonareva. What does it take for a come-back around here? In other Wimbledon news: John McEnroe wonders when they will get to use the new roof on Centre Court and Alan Wilkins makes an appreciative comment about pineapples from the Philippines (Vijay Amritraj informs us that the pineapple on the Wimbledon trophy is some kind of symbol for wealth.)

I've just about used up my break. Cell organelles and osmosis await me. Later.

It isn't tomorrow yet.

For my return to blogging, I give you...

GELATO!

It is warm tonight, so I am imagining pear-flavored gelato sliding around on my tongue.

I haven't written in a while, and I am as puzzled as you are as to why I'm starting again now. The new school year begins tomorrow, and I have been hired to wreak havoc on impressionable young minds. I should be up to my neck in Zoology books, but here I am blogging. I think this could be the last dregs of my denial.

My quiet life as a patron of the arts (This sounds nicer than penniless bum.) is at an end. I mourn my slow mornings, my stack of unread books and unwatched movies. I mourn my walks with Dog, and the constant battle to entertain myself. I mourn impulsive downloads and random link-clicking and afternoon TV. I mourn curling up on the green couch and relaxing mugs of tea. I mourn free time and series marathons and unplanned naps. I mourn pajamas during the day and successful, experimental lunch recipes. I mourn peace.

Later.

P.S. Roger Federer lost to Robin Soderling in the Quarterfinals of the French Open. I was not as devastated as I should have been. Lem observes that Roger now reacts to losses in a calm, paternal manner. Rafael Nadal inevitably won the final and now believes he can bounce back from his relatively mediocre year. I didn't know The Bicep harbored such confidence issues. Cheers to the new Number One.

Glorious bites

Pa, Jake, and I are finally in The Netherlands with Ma. We're staying in today and munching on watermelon.

My poor sleeping habits seem to have vanished over the changing latitudes. I've been sleeping a lot, my body trying to get over the jet lag. I read somewhere that afternoon naps can help, but I've been a slave to my eyelids. I fell asleep at eight this morning.

We went for a walk yesterday, and ended up at the open market. It's spring here and the flowers are blooming. People are happy to see color after a season of white landscapes. I took photos of dogs and chocolate and cheese.

 

The Fed, Captain America, etc.

Just a few things before I polish off the last of my chores.

On Yahoo! Movietalk, Chris Evans to play "Captain America." I am pleased at the inherent hotness, but dubious about his maturity. Don't get me wrong; I say this with affection. Evans does young insolence well, but I wonder if he can handle the more straight-arrow Steve Rogers.

In the Miami Herald, a wonderful piece on Roger as a father, a champion, and other yummy bites. Thank you, GoToTennis Blog for the brilliant link. Read, as The Fed gushes about his twins. He is a sweet, sweet man.

"But then, we realized having two at the same time would mean they could be best friends forever, and we got excited about it. Now that Myla and Charlene are in our lives, I wouldn't want it any other way..."

"...Having children has had a major impact on me, all good," he said. "Mirka went through the pregnancy so well, and that inspired me. I felt bad that I was just sitting on the sidelines, not able to help much. Once the babies came, I wanted to be part of it. Mirka still does more diaper-changing and waking up, but in the daytime, I hold the babies a lot and spend a lot of time with them."

I haven't been sleeping very well. I float about in the in-between for a while until some distraction snaps me back to consciousness.

Today, a jeepney driver accidentally gave me an old 25-centavo coin. The one with the butterfly on it. Why did we stop using the two-peso coin with ten sides? That was awesome change.

I'm parched. Off to hydrate. Later.

Sanctuary

If life was a story, the world should be a bookstore.

You can use books to make a stack all the way to the moon.

I could lose myself in all your words.

I would go to the ends of the Earth, to read you.

More photos of The World's Most Interesting Bookstores here.

I like paws

Zen in your tea cup

More tea this morning. I'm enjoying a cup before I head out for a bunch of errands. Thinking of making tea and actually making it are just as relaxing as drinking it. I zone out and let my hands take me through the motions. I simmer some water and milk in a saucepan, then pour in my tea leaves. I watch the liquid turn creamy brown and I am at peace. There is quiet satisfaction in the gentle bubbling of hot tea.

Today, the sky is so blue, it's ridiculous.