Feeling good
As we live not far from where Nina Simone lived, why not pinch one of her song titles for a post? It suddenly struck me on Thursday afternoon how bloody great I felt - not tired, not dopey but ready for anything. So I did stuff - sanded some window frames, went for a walk, played the guitar, wrote a bit of my song for Synesthesia. Then I had some leftover curry and felt bloody awful again but it was great while it lasted (I had more of the same leftover curry for lunch on Saturday and felt fine after it). Still, it is good to see that some of my numbers are moving in the right direction and I'm focusing on that.
My hip finally stopped hurting, more or less, so I trotted out yesterday to ref a couple of fairly gentle soccer games. By halfway through the first half of the second game my hip had once again decided this was a bloody silly pastime so I was pretty glad that the teams weren't the most mobile in the world. As autumn is now here (it's going to be 80 degrees on Tuesday - you call that autumn?) today was tidy up the garden time. This mostly involved dead-heading the black-eyed susans, pulling up as much of the "ornamental" grass that the previous owner planted as I could (bloody stuff - I'll never get rid of it) and sweeping up fallen leaves (no leaf blower for me). While engaged in said mindless work, my mind wandered over the latest piece of drivel in the paper by Franklin Graham (Billy's arsehole son who has no idea what the word "progressive" means") and sundry songs by the Beach Boys (what did I do to deserve that?) Looking to my left I see that the patio is covered in leaves again - I still love autumn in North Carolina although I do not enjoy stepping on acorns in my bare feet. Local folklore says that a lot of acorns foretells a cold winter - I'm not sure what almost entirely black woolly work I saw earlier predicts.
There being nothing like catching up on schoolwork, I also graded my programming class's blogs. It appears that several students don't get the concept of a blog so I emailed their parents to enlist their help in getting some action going there. I am anticipating a kangaroo court as a result.
My hip finally stopped hurting, more or less, so I trotted out yesterday to ref a couple of fairly gentle soccer games. By halfway through the first half of the second game my hip had once again decided this was a bloody silly pastime so I was pretty glad that the teams weren't the most mobile in the world. As autumn is now here (it's going to be 80 degrees on Tuesday - you call that autumn?) today was tidy up the garden time. This mostly involved dead-heading the black-eyed susans, pulling up as much of the "ornamental" grass that the previous owner planted as I could (bloody stuff - I'll never get rid of it) and sweeping up fallen leaves (no leaf blower for me). While engaged in said mindless work, my mind wandered over the latest piece of drivel in the paper by Franklin Graham (Billy's arsehole son who has no idea what the word "progressive" means") and sundry songs by the Beach Boys (what did I do to deserve that?) Looking to my left I see that the patio is covered in leaves again - I still love autumn in North Carolina although I do not enjoy stepping on acorns in my bare feet. Local folklore says that a lot of acorns foretells a cold winter - I'm not sure what almost entirely black woolly work I saw earlier predicts.
There being nothing like catching up on schoolwork, I also graded my programming class's blogs. It appears that several students don't get the concept of a blog so I emailed their parents to enlist their help in getting some action going there. I am anticipating a kangaroo court as a result.
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