I’m thoroughly convinced that the reason we have the phrase, ‘two birds, one stone’ is because back before they made the mistake of growing all their food, some stonehugger was tasked with getting dinner as soon as prehistorically possible or no cave-pussy for you tonight buster. Our lucky protagonist pitched a quality piece of geology, and hit in a row, not one but two over-evolved flying feathered takeout dinners. We’ve been hearing about this story ever since. The archaeological record is shifty about whether or not our pitcher ended up getting cave-pussy for an accomplishment that would be talked about for the next 45,000 years.
My booklist is like my repository for the chaos that would otherwise rule my life. I’ve got fingers in a dozen and a half different books at any one time, in a variety of formats all waiting to be given attention from daddy. So far, it’s wonderful method of corralling a brain on fire from adhd. Imagine a hydra with dozens of heads, except nearly all the heads are down, wedged between the pages of different books, busy trying to read their own books and their neighbors books at the same time. Way easier to fight one head or so at a time when they’re all preoccupied right? The trick is never to run out of things interesting enough to keep everyone reading, otherwise they get bored, wander off the pages, and start to get obsessed with all the other things I could soon be doing, other than the things I’m trying *really* hard to do right now.
I’ve been eating a number of cheese sticks lately, because lots of cheese is a low-carb alternative to lots of bread, and because of their high mozzarella content. Mozzarella may as well be vitamin M, cause I sure eat it like it’s an essential nutrient. The biggest downside of the iconic cheese stick (besides the fundamentalist fanatics who insist that the strings be consumed individually, or not at all) is all the god damn plastic. I hear daily about how our plastic waste is being used by big manufacturing to choke sea turtles and dolphins to death. The other good one is about how there is like, a million more times the amount of micro-plastics in our water than we thought, when there was already like, a lot of plastic in there. I can still see liquid! We’re not done here, keep throwing in coke bottles boys.
Imagine being married to your favorite author. How weird is that? How weird would it be for me to imagine being the favorite author that my wife is married to? What if I’m the chump and she’s the great author? I’d be the one haranguing her about when the next book is coming out. Maybe that’s what I should get her for Valentine’s Day, an impressionist painting of me pleading for the next novel.
A thoughtful mention 