I love my iPad

Ok so I mostly use it for games, mail, and streaming video from netflix... Byte me, it is awesome! One of these days I will find a book I actually want to read, too.

SCREEEEEEAAAAAAAAMMMMMMMM omg it is soooo coooollll!

Sent from my iPad

POEM: Internment

INTERNMENT
2010040841 - c2010 WLC

I'm well aware of strengths I have
And quite aware of weaknesses
I know this love I have inside
Too well I know of speechlessness

My fingers, then, are like an army
Marching in a symphony
Pouring out the things I can't
Express without their tympany

For in my throat, a struggling bird
Long imprisoned in its stir
Riding out the storm and waiting
For its freedom to occur

What if, perchance, it waits for naught?
What if it is forever caught?
Never once to truly sing?
Never once to say a thing?

This is my weakness, my desire
I cannot sing, yet still aspire
To feel the easing of release
Permit expression, inner peace

So joyful would her singing be
If only once outside this cage
Her voice could open and be free
Instead she's caught within her rage

~nv

Photography thoughts

It is coming to my attention that there are three aspects to
photography that I like.

1. New gadget syndrome: The process of learning all these new
features and testing the waters without any real professional
understanding. This is the process in which the camera becomes one
with my body. The features aspect can take a few days to a couple
weeks, but the bonding comes with experience.

2. Picture-taking: This comes after the camera has become a part of
my body. It's when I see a shot I want and get it without thinking
about how to do so. It's the slightly less creative side of me
because it's more intuitive than thoughtful.

3. Push-to-limits syndrome: This is when I've exhausted everything I
can find in the features and have indefatigably attempted the same
shot over and over with no success, then get really close by using a
flashlight or some other means to trick the camera into doing what I
want, or close to it. This is the point where my interest peaks
briefly during a tertiary creative phase, then flattens out into
disgust and aggravation when even creativity has found its limit.

Maverick hit that last point a year after I met Dale. Oxide and
Obsidian did not get there naturally, because Oxide tried to byte the
dust on me and Sid was overshadowed by the exceptionally better camera
Dale has been using which gave me shot ideas I could not obtain with
the equipment I had. Hence, early retirement as I spring into the
world of SLRs.

Very interesting analysis, though, for so early in the morning.
(9am) LOL

~me

Dream

I just bought a new camera, a Nikon D5000. I've named him Morpheus.
He's sweet. The flash appears a bit more natural, it does better in
low light, etc. But on a night when I cannot sleep, his complexity
and myriad of features had me reading his manual. This meant that
something was on my mind as I fell asleep.

As such, I dreamt of photography.

So, last night I was content and asleep, and I'm dreaming of this cool
shot. I don't even remember what it was. But in my dream, I raise my
camera and go to press the button and - SOMEONE grabs my BOOB!! There
was no one in the dream so I open my eyes and after several confusing
moments, realize my hand was acting out the dream.

That hand caused me a good shot. Well, sorta. Okay, considering I
can't even remember what the shot was, and it would have been a
temporary one anyway considering it was only in my head... I suppose
it's a good thing that I woke up just before the alarm. Still... not
the first time my hand has woken me up out of a sound sleep. One
night I woke up and my hands were fluttering in my face. I remember
recognizing the flutters as sign language and was able to interpret
much of it, although it was a bit incoherent. Then I realized I'd
been signing in my sleep. I've also woken up and found myself typing
in my sleep.

My hands are apparently quite vocal at all hours of the day. I've
often wondered if they're not even mine...

~w

0111 Things I love

Okay, so here's my current events.

0001. I LOVE FIREFLY.

0010. I LOVE RED DWARF.

0011. I LOVE OSMANTHUS OOLONG.

0100. I LOVE GOOGLE. Get this - Dale says, "Huh. Says to register
but doesn't give a phone number." Two seconds later: "Dale, it's xxx-
xxxx." Google at my fingertips. I loves its.

0101. I LOVE THE INTERNETS. For which # 0100 would not have been
possible in the way it is.

0110. I LOVE GOOD BUSINESSES. I recently got orthotics for what I
felt was a developing case of Plantar Fasciitis. All the signs were
there, but only in winter for the most part, so I'd ignored it for a
good two years or so. The guy was great, gave me some helpful advice,
etc, but I didn't listen as well as I should and then even after
taking it really easy the pain had only increased while wearing the
orthos. I began to wonder if perhaps my foot was worse than I'd
thought and maybe I should have seen a doc before getting orthos. So
I called a podiatrist. The lady was really nice and I explained the
issues briefly to which she immediately asks, "How long have you tried
breaking them in?" I'm like, "A week." (This is about what I thought
the guy told me.) She laughs and informs me that I should definitely
give it more time, at least a month, and that I should only wear them
an hour one day, two hours the next, etc (what the guy told me, and
I've been averaging one or two hours a day since the first few days of
way-too-long-and-I-admit-it). She also told me that if there's pain,
I'm pushing too hard and should cut back until I can push more. So I
ended up not making the appointment, and she seemed fine with that.
It is VERY VERY VERY VERY VERY RARE for a doctor's office to give such
advice over the phone let alone doing so without a) me being a patient
and b) not getting immediate business out of the deal. Of course, I
am now in awe and assuming my foot turns out good I will promote the
office to the ends of the earth, so in the end, they still win.

0111. I LOVE DALE. I know this goes without saying, but I have to
mention this because it's true and it's important to reiterate
awesomeness. What are some of the things he's done or said lately to
deserve this praise? Lots of things. Mostly little things. The
smile on his face, the light in his eyes; they always capture my heart
and hold it a willing prisoner. A couple days ago he reminded me to
do something that was financially beneficial to me. He helped me help
my [our] friend move. He's patient with me. He doesn't argue, only
expresses his opinions or thoughts and lets me do the same, coming to
conclusions with me rather than forcing things down my throat. He's
willing to help me with projects, the few I have that welcome more
extensive involvement. He's fun to go out and do stuff with. TV Time
is made even better by his presence, even when we don't talk much.
Meals take less time and are more fun because of him. English Muffin
Pizza. Taco Bell. Stair Pong. Yep. I love the guy. What can I say?

Osmanthus Oolong

This is THE awesomest tea EVER.

My recipe:

2 TBS Osmanthus Oolong
Heat 18oz water to just barely starting to bubble (you know that
growly sound the pot suddenly makes when the bubbles are about to form?)
Pour over tea and brew for 2.5 minutes
Strain

O...M...G...

~w

Poem: Bubbles

BUBBLES
2010021731 - c2010 WLC

Tiny bubbles cling together
Floating in a pool of amber
Surrounded by a wall of green
Popping tiny breaths unseen

I sit here up against my mum
Playing Scrabble as you curl
Blissful in my solitude
But not without my gratitude

For when you're gone
Our love goes on
Inside a happy dancing heart
We are never quite apart

I watch TV on the internet
Never trying to forget
The happy looks that you provide
Without you, we'd not survive

The door swings wide
You walk inside
I drink the bubbles in my cup
I'll see you when I wake up

spinach

I just ate boiled spinach and some mashed potatoes...

...AND LIKED IT!!!!!!!!!

GAHHHHHHHHHHHHHH I'M ALL GROWNED UP!!!!!!!
WAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

damned if you do...

...or potentially so.

Earlier today I was at work. This lady calls up and says, "Mr. Brown
is here from XYZ company and needs to get on our wireless network.
It's asking for credentials. What are they?"

After the usual verification stuff, I tell her the password he'll
need. She says, with a slight edge suggesting that she wants to make
darned sure she understands me right, "That's ALL he's going to need
to enter? Nothing else?" "Nope," I say, and I hear "Okay, thanks,"
and the click of her hanging up. I continued talking to the phone as
I also hung up: "unless, of course, he's got one of those clients
that defaults to 64 bits instead of 128 bits in which case he'll need
to look for that setting on whatever client he's got and change it to
the other one... but if that's the case I'll find out soon enough
because you'll call back."

Then I hear a very soft snicker on the other side of the cubicle and
begin to laugh to myself, because I realized I hadn't given her all
the information he /might/ need, not because I was trying to screw
anyone, but because I knew the chances of him /having/ that type of
client were likely slim. In the past, I'd give too MUCH information
just to be safe, and end up confusing the dickens out of someone
because 9 times out of 10 they didn't need the information in the
first place. 'Tis best, at times, to leave out typically-unimportant
information and provide it on a need-to-know basis even if it means
someone has to call back (which makes me appreciate having to call
people back, now - the person was being thoughtful about my level of
understanding by refusing to confuse me with a bunch of inapplicable
crap). Still, I had to voice this concern, so I made it known to
myself as a muttered sidenote aimed at her hang-up click.

I.T. support is an art form. In addition to reading minds, we have to
quickly disseminate only needed information for equipment we can only
make guesses at while an agreeable but intensely busy person on the
other end waits for your pleasantly helpful voice to spew forth easy-
to-understand, nontechnical information that's highly complex and
technical in nature.

~nv

synesthesia

I know someone who has this - where he hears music and sees colour.

http://scienceblogs.com/cognitivedaily/2010/01/synesthesia_and_the_mcgurk_eff.php

SPOILER BELOW... if you want to listen and watch for yourself, you can
read this after you're done...

The interesting thing about what occurred when I watched:

1. neat, neat?, peat, peat. neat, neat, peat, peat
2. neat, neat, peat, peat. neat, neat, peat, peat

Note "neat?" is where he says people hear "meat." I /did/ think I
heard meat, but it sounded too nasalised, and I was very very confused
by the fact the lips didn't match perfectly what I was hearing. It
was like it was out of synch or something. At first I figured I heard
him wrong, began comparing what I'd seen to his voice as I watched the
next word come forth, couldn't figure out why the sound was off so
badly that it didn't match the sound correctly, and ultimately
concluded that he'd said "neat." I based this on context, because he
never said he was going to say "meat" but /had/ mentioned the word
"neat" and repeated it later on.

After I got myself all confused, I found myself reading below as I
listened to and half-watched the second part, and realized he /had/
said "neat" and that he was superimposing his speech on top of an
original recording of "neat, peat, neat, peat."

So: In short, I /did/ do what he said most people do, but due to the
synchronization problem, I wasn't 100% certain I heard him correctly.
Then I pulled a CAPD compensation and found "neat" was the only
obvious word he could have used in that strange context, so I fixed
what I heard with what I thought I should have heard.

If he /had/ said "meat" with the same synchronization issue, I likely
would have gotten that wrong, especially after I'd heard the whole
thing.

~nv

Dream Last Night

Childhood classmate and friend, Jen, and I were adults in a schoolroom
and reminiscing. Suddenly I hugged her, very glad to see her again,
and she said something about always having been there and not going
anywhere. I said, "I miss the past, not some of the things in it." I
woke up, very much desiring to remember that line, and found that I'd
been crying, truly happy to have seen her so vividly again and sad
that it wasn't real. WTF? I kept repeating that line over and over
as I fell back to sleep, though, and... there it is. So succinct...

Full Circle Writing

Yep, me again, talking about the importance of proper writing skills.
Today it was inspired by this site, which speaks of handwriting: http://www.hopechestlegacy.com/index.php?page=writing-desks

It has just dawned on me how history often repeats itself, and how
things often come full-circle. Is this beginning to occur with
literacy in some places? Doing much genealogical research as of late,
I am quite familiar with the concept that last names were often
misspelled or misread during censuses, and how many folks were so
illiterate they scarcely could write their own names.

So is this how it is to be, then? A good majority of the populace
able to write well, but a tiny percentage in comparison able to write
properly? Shall we have scribes again?

I hope not.

~nv

music

It just dawned on me...

If people with APD have trouble hearing pitch and other musical
nuances (even going so far as to NOT APPRECIATE music because it's not
processed well in the first place!) then...

WHAT AM I MISSING?!

I get a heck of a lot out of music, I really do... a lot more than
many people do. Is it that I'm so far improved that I'm aware of so
much? Or am I still missing important pieces, even when I'm fully
alert and listening in otherwise complete silence?

I was just listening to Gravity by Vienna Teng and realized that MANY
of the words she sings have no similarity to the words I know she's
singing. I always felt she sang fairly clearly, but... at the current
volume, with me feeling sleepy, it's darned near impossible for me to
hear /exactly/ what she's singing.

"hayla, is that the name you're meant to have, for me to call, the
lookeylah, we've given up believin', we've turned aside our stories of
our gentle fog/fawd/fawn"

There are a /lot/ of things there that I'd have misheard were it not
for context and printed lyrics, which I distinctly recall reading
several times, memorizing. I can still picture the words as she
sings, as if I'm following along.

"So don't turn away now, I am turning in revolution, these are the
scars that silence called on me... This is the sayin' place, no not
the saying place, this is the sayin' place no, no not the saying place
we've been before, hayla, I am a constant satellite of your blazing
sun/son/song, milo, I ill be your law of gravity..."

yeah, okay, but I /am/ tired. Still, if I can easily tell what I
"hear" despite knowing what she is "singing" then what am I missing
due to NOT knowing ahead of time?

~whimpering me~

CAPD version 18763

Yep, back on this subject...

--- from http://www.ldonline.org/article/6390#anchor528829 :

Phonological awareness

Phonological awareness is the understanding that language is made
up of individual sounds (phonemes) which are put together to form the
words we write and speak. This is a fundamental precursor to reading.
Children who have difficulty with phonological awareness will often be
unable to recognize or isolate the individual sounds in a word,
recognize similarities between words (as in rhyming words), or be able
to identify the number of sounds in a word. These deficits can affect
all areas of language including reading, writing, and understanding of
spoken language.

Though phonological awareness develops naturally in most
children, the necessary knowledge and skills can be taught through
direct instruction for those who have difficulty in this area.
---

My comments:
Unless visual abilities are pronounced and can compensate for the
Auditory Processing deficits. I /know/ this, because of the memory I
have of my mother reading to me when I was a child. Seeing her finger
sliding across the page, pointing at the squiggly lines and the
pictures, the mild change in tone of voice... I had no bloody clue
what her voice was doing other than indicating a change, some sort of
accentuation. But somehow I figured out that the squiggles were
symbolic of the pictures, and I learned to read.

The reason I know that I learned the words separately from the sounds
at first is because I've read many, many words which I hear much later
in life and go, "How do you spell that?" When it's spelled, I
immediately recognize it and understand its meaning from past written
contexts. The second reason is less certain, but still pretty darned
certain. That would be the lack of sound in my head as I read and
write. Sometimes I do hear soft whispers nowdays, but in the past it
was always silence or pictures. Mostly it was a dark void, two-
dimensional, as if the pictures needn't exist along with the concepts.

Query #1: Did I see auras so prominently as a child because of the
APD? I don't see them as frequently now, and I also have less trouble
understanding people than I used to.

Query #2: Why haven't I seen more connexions between APD relief and
musical studies?

Anywho, just some ponderings.

~me

sensory overload

An email I just wrote a friend. I enjoyed writing it because of the
images that floated through my head as my fingers moved across the
keyboard, and realized that perhaps I'm in one of _those_ moods. So,
I'll share this tidbit.

--- Regarding a teapot and teacup that was gifted to me a few years
ago: ---

You know, I realize this was a years-ago gift at this point, but it's
one I still appreciate just about every day. The cup is just the
right size, perfect colour, and perfectly balanced in its weight. The
pot I find to be of similar design as far as weight and colour, and
it's an excellent spot to store tea while I drink my first cup or
two. It's also good for guests when everyone's good with one kind and
strength of tea. (I have come to find the great majority of our
guests do not deviate from bagged teas anyway, so this point is hardly
ever an issue anyway, and my mother-in-law, who loves Ceylon Sonata as
much as I do, thinks my brew perfect for her taste.)

Note that I tend to use the teapot mostly in conjunction with the
Ingenuitea infuser that Dale got me... i.e., I use the teapot more as
a decanter than for brewing; the brewing is left to the infuser, which
is truly ingenious in its design.

The reason this gratitude has snuck in so strongly this morning is
because I've been browsing other teawares while sipping a third round
of Da Hong Pao from the little teacup. On and off I've tried to find
something that's exactly what I might want, and I cannot find anything
nicer than what I have. I have found some pots with infusers, and
cups with infusers - nice ideas, admittedly - but they're either too
large or I don't like the style/colour. I like the simplicity
inherent in what I've got, and the colour is exactly right. Probably
the closest I've got to proximity would be the Bodum pots with the
infusers. But even those somehow lack the grace the green one exhibits.

So, once more, thanks for such an awesome gift. The only reason I
continue to poke around, I think, is because I want to find just the
right thing for work. Alas, I simply don't see this happening anytime
soon. There's simply something to be said for a warm pot of tea
sitting on the table waiting to refill the cup, and the more I think
about it, the more I realize that I am seeking an impossible
collaboration of convenience and sensory fulfillment.

Funny thing, as I get older, I tend to appreciate warmth and
simplicity over streamlined chaos. This, even though my habit of
overlooking chaos has yet to diminish thoroughly enough to put things
away in a more timely manner. Right now my desk is full of braille
books, gadgets, and little slips of paper, and it is bugging the
absolute CRAP out of me because there, amidst the clutter, sits the
perfect cup of tea, lost in the insanity of my self-fulfilling life.
Its neighbours at the moment consist of a mouse from last night's
gaming, two bottles of ink, netflix rentals, a camera, my work badge,
a crumpled-up dollar bill, a half-eaten chocolate bar (which I'm
surprised has not attracted cat fur yet), an earring, two pens, cookie
cutters, parchment, and the aforementioned items. Gah. This is only
a few days' worth of clutter, mind you. At least I now clear my desk
twice a week, which is more than I could say for the me from a year ago.

--- end of email ---

poached eggs

Speaking of heaven, I just consumed the best breakfast I have had in a
very long time.

A second infusion of Da Hong Pao tea, a PERFECT poached egg (I've
finally got it, I reckon!!), two slices of moderately buttered toast,
and a clementine.

I don't know what a "good" poached egg is "supposed" to be like, but I
do know that after at least a dozen attempts at them and a few video-
watchings online, I created the best one I've made yet. I have
learned that you heat the water so there's steam and little bubbles at
the bottom of the pot. It needs about two to three inches of water in
a pot large enough to comfortably swirl water in. You add 2 teaspoons
of vinegar (or thereabouts). Then you stir the water so it's very
swirly, and before it slows too much, you drop in the egg. The
vinegar supposedly helps to keep the white from drifting into bits and
the swirling motion wraps it around itself, helping to keep it
together in a neat little package. I then turn the heat down below
halfway and move the pot so the egg's resting spot is not directly
over the burner. This keeps the water hot without searing the egg to
the bottom of the pot, you see. I figured that one out myself after
ripping the thing apart so the yolk flowed - against my will - into
the water rather than onto my toast.

Oh, and then... you let it sit there for ten minutes, or to desired
consistency. Ten minutes seems to be perfect for me.

Last time I did this, it was pretty good. Today, however, I added two
final steps: Once the egg was done, I dumped it into a bowl of ice
water and made my toast. When the toast was ready, I dumped the bowl
of ice water (and egg) into the hot water to re-heat the egg.

Supposedly, the ice water "sets" the egg so it's easier to handle.
Restaurants apparently do this so they have eggs on hand when they're
ordered. It's easy for them to re-heat the eggs. I think this
setting action MADE my eggs perfect this morning. Mmm MMMMM!!

OH and I'll tell you, Da Hong Pao is AWESOME...

kitty cat cut

Dale was shooting a video of Kitty playing with a catnip toy and I
tried to help by getting her to face his way. In doing so, I
inadvertently put my thumb in harm's way and Kitty snagged a ragged
half-inch gash in its fleshy, sensitive little pad. Right in the
center. OW! I exclaimed, pulling it back (which likely caused the
majority of the tear).

I feel _very_ bad for mice and moles. They don't have stuff like
Neosporin and bandaids, nor are they big enough to clobber their
attacker should it be a-purpose. In this situation it was obviously
not a-purpose. Kitty was merely playing and didn't mean it, but
nonetheless I will admit that as I nursed by throbbing thumb I did
cast several dirty looks in her general direction.

~nv

Poem: Black Eternal

BLACK ETERNAL
2009120822 c2009 WLC

I sit surrounded by love
Love sits, too, around the corner
Music fills this tiny room
This tiny room I call my mind

If I think hard, I still remember
The sweet escape within the ink
These days the joy just wants to hide
Afraid of being left behind

But now and then, the fancy strikes
I see the Braille, my paints, and then
The stack of paper, a dipping pen
Somehow calls the Muse again

I feel the bumps beneath my fingers
Sense the feeling in the paint
See the softly glowing pages
Alive with thoughts borne in my den

There they are, dancing here, across the page
Gently sculpted in Black Eternal
Perhaps the pages dry and crumble
Or make their way through Time Immortal

Like my love for you.

Poem: Ode To The Corner Store

ODE TO THE CORNER STORE
2009120821 c2009 WLC

I love the corner store
For now and eve more
We live just down the street
And walk there in the heat
We've gone there in the snow
And baby, don't you know
We love the corner store

One night I wanted sour cream
I could have thought it but a dream
But with a skip and jump and hop
I wandered up to the historic shop
Where the sign hangs proudly in the back
Some people never seem to lack
The Spirit of the American Dream

It may rain, and it can pour
But we'll be walking through that door
To by some eggs or milk or meat
Or potato chips to eat
From our house, just one stone's throw
And fellow shoppers, don't you know
We love our corner store!

honey/vinegar

I'm reading a somewhat older Vermont Folk Medicine book (I think it's
early to mid 1900's). One of the things it mentioned was a concoction
I'm quite familiar with, but with water added. I never thought to mix
it with water.

2 tablespoons each of apple cider vinegar and honey [typically I hear
"raw" honey but it can be difficult to come by]
Mix this in a glass of water and drink it, with or without meals. In
the book, it was said that some people drink it at all three meals.
I've also read that it's excellent when drunk chilled on a hot day,
sort of like lemonade.

The one caveat the book has not mentioned to my point in the reading
is that vinegar can be bad for teeth. I read online somewhere that to
minimize the possibility of damaging teeth, you can rinse your mouth
with water afterward. I'd think this is good practice anyway to
dislodge food particles if you're like me and don't like to brush
right after a meal (which to me ruins the fun of eating). If I
remember right, the acid in the vinegar reacts with the calcium in the
enamel of the tooth, and weakens it. It makes sense to me because if
you put vinegar on marble (which is also heavily infused with
calcium), it can eat through the stuff and at the very least, make a
horrible scar on it.

I don't tend to hold 100% stock in folk medicine, but I think that
before the doctors of today, people were generally more instinctive
and likely had a LOT of household remedies that did help with many
things. (I don't believe our current science is the ONLY science or
that it's infallible, either.) Additionally, many of /their/ ills
were likely due to both lack of medical/scientific understanding and
nutrition. Today, we don't suffer from many of their problems such as
plague, measles, scurvy, etc, but I think by and large our populace
has forgotten many of its collectively learned remedies. Over the
years I've found that some remedies /seem/ to work, and at the very
least, they don't hurt to try. So, when I woke up with a sore throat
shortly before our Thanksgiving weekend a couple weeks ago, I went all
out on the remedies I had tried in the past. I didn't get sick after
all. Maybe I wouldn't have. But I do know that the honey and vinegar
trick has saved me from sore throats several times, so while I don't
believe in everything I read or hear, I do tend to think those two
items indeed have value. I have strong faith in Garlic, as well.
Particularly raw.

One thing I find interesting about the book is that it mentions how
before the age of 25, the human body tends to require far different
nutrients than it does later, because before 25, the human body is
still building its systems. After that, it merely needs to maintain
them. From my own experience, I think the body goes through many
stages of requirements. As a child, I was very finicky, as my mother
could tell you. At first I ate everything she gave me, then I went
through a year or so of eating little to nothing (yet I was growing at
a good clip). At one point I would eat meat as if there were no
tomorrow, then abruptly, I wouldn't touch the stuff for years, or,
very little of it, and it had to be just right or it sat on the
plate. When I moved out on my own, I often tried eating hot dogs, but
it never seemed right to me somehow and now I have trouble eating
those, too, if not just the right kind and cooked just right. I got
into a junk food phase and then in my mid-twenties, I craved steak and
potatoes by spurts, which continued for a few years. Interspersed
with that was a need for fish, chicken, and rice with lots of frozen
veggies mixed in. (This is how many of my rice dishes were born.)
Then I met Dale and we discovered Indian food, and now I'm getting
more into tomatoes to a small extent, and I love the medleys of
spices. Thai has crept in there. I love variety. Lately it's been
Wendy's burgers and at home, rice, eggs, frozen veggies... the rice
dishes continue to draw my appetite.

So, tastes do change drastically over the years of one's life, it
seems. My mother admitted this to me herself but she tends to stick
with what she knows and is limited in her ventures out of fear for the
unknown. Me, I don't mind sitting on the toilet for a couple of days
if it means I have found a new spice to love. Granted, Mother was
right when she told me I have in the past tended to overindulge in
newly discovered foods. The curried rice when I was in my teens is a
very well-known example. I wasn't kidding about two days on the toilet.

Oh, and tea - I LOVE that stuff. I have noticed a few things,
though. First, I tend to drink the oolongs and blacks far more than
the greens, and most of the time they're all laden with caffeine.
Generally I do not touch decaf anything unless it's naturally lacking
the stuff. BUT. Despite all supposed health benefits from drinking
tea, it is one of those things that should be combined with lots of
water. The stuff is a major diuretic. Here are some things I've
noticed most when I get into my tea phases: My face turns kind of
ashen, like the blood refuses to rise to the surface, or there isn't
enough water in it. I pee a lot more and sometimes my sides have very
minor aches in them, as if my kidneys are working far harder than they
should be. I get headaches, as I just discovered. And finally, I
feel very dry - my skin, especially, but also some sort of inner sense
that fluid is lacking. If I limit myself to a small cup per day, I
don't notice these things quite as much, but more than that and
inevitably I see the signs.

EGGS! I love eggs. One or two eggs in the morning, with a small cup
of tea, a slice of toast, and a small bit of corn mush... this seems
to make me very alert until lunch. Tea alone is energizing but it's
more of a high than it is an overall sense of purpose. "They" are
right about breakfast - people do better when they have it. And I've
found that even at early hours, I can take an egg most of the time.
Speaking of which, even the folk medicine book mentions those
things... they have everything needed to build a chicken, so they're
powerhouses of nutrition.

Anywho, I don't know where I was going with all this. Perhaps I'm
just finger-blabbing. LOL I think that if it were not this day and
age of computers, I would likely have learned everything there is to
know about plants through much experimentation and note-taking.
Perhaps one of those medicine peoples, as it were.

~w