(no subject)

Do you have any idea how hard it is to plan an outfit that is suitable for:

a) physical therapy
b) a job interview
c) no obvious evidence of a job interview at the current job
d) rain
e) hickey coverage?

food rant of the day

At the farmer's market on Saturday, I was stocking up on the last tomatoes of the season. There was one stand at Ferry Plaza that had some gorgeous and tasty heirloom varieties. It also had a lovely display of mixed cherry tomatoes in baskets that seemed to attract the eye of a lot of other shoppers.

One by one, they came to the cash box and asked the guy running the stand, "Which ones are sweetest?"

Once was worth an eye roll. Two was grating. By the time I was done shopping, I had to step out of the tent and have a full-blown tantrum moment.

What makes a good tomato is not how sweet it is. A tomato is nothing but a sugar cube if it doesn't have that compensatory acid bite. But nobody ever comes up and asks, "which ones are the most acid" or "which ones have the most bite?"

The guy running the stand, to his credit, would occasionally try to steer his customers toward the green grape tomatoes. "They consistently come out on top in taste tests," he said, "though they're not the sweetest." But his customers would nod politely and then ask their single question again until he pointed out something else.

another odd tidbit

You wouldn't think that what the physical therapist and I did this morning would have any lingering after-effects, but my left tricep is *sore*.

I can't stop posting...

...because I am full of energy and things at work are very slow.

I just wanted to express a tiny sliver of amazement at the poetry meme going around. Who knew there were so many poetry readers? It gives me a thrill akin to the feeling I had on Friday night, when I walked down Valencia street during Litquake and saw all these storefronts, packed with people -- and they were all there to hear other people read from books. It was really very inspiring and quietly transformative.

gordonzola asked me on Friday night if I was still feeling down about my writing. I told him at the time, "it comes and goes." But right now, I think that Litquake and its aftermath -- barely being able to leave the bar because so many people wanted to talk to me, check in with me, catch up with me, hang out for just a few more minutes with me -- is starting to seep under my skin, in a good way. So what I said is true, it comes and goes, but right now it's gone.

Even though I'm on deadline the second I get home.

Also, I have (plastic) frogs in my pocket. Secret abundance. Not as cool as a pet lime, I admit, but more portable.

(no subject)

I've fixed the typo, but I am disappointed that none of you asked what an "eye roo" was.