Day 314 of Project 365: Wonder Hummus

Day 314 of Project 365: Wonder Hummus

I was skeptical about this hummus-crusted chicken recipe, but it was wonderful. Instead of making my own, I used a small pot of jalapeño and red pepper hummus, which added a nice kick and complemented the caesar salad too. Experimenting with this basic idea will be fun.

Day 314 of Project 365: Wonder Hummus

gratitude: visiting two different libraries today · the first pumpkin spice latte of the season · Torgi’s checkup bearing positive news

grateful for bad jokes

So this mushroom walks into a bar, sits down on a stool, and orders a martini.  The bartender looks at him and says, “Sorry, we don’t serve your kind in here.”  The mushroom looks up at the bartender and says, “Why not? I’m a fungi!”

That is one of my favorite bad jokes, although I am pretty fond of just about every bad joke I have ever heard.  I don’t know why this is, and I don’t question it.  I just laugh.

(This entry is part of one month of gratitude.)

grateful for manners

All I ask is for a simple “please” and “thank you”.  That is all I ask.

Okay, that isn’t true.  I ask for a lot more than that.  I ask for turn signals and “pardon me” and eye contact and door-holding (from any gender, for any gender) and all of the tiny ways in which we communicate to each other that we know our own priorities are not the only priorities in the world, that we know our lives are very small and our concerns for the most part petty, that getting anywhere on time is not worth anyone else’s life, and that a genuine smile makes someone else’s day suck a little less.

Thank you to those of you who make the effort.  I notice, and I am so grateful to you.

(This entry is part of one month of gratitude.)

grateful for nightmares

Initially, this entry was about dreams, but most of my dreams are neither terribly interesting nor helpful. My nightmares are usually both.  Granted, I do not look forward to having nightmares, but I often learn something about myself from them.  Sometimes I don’t learn that something until I have related the plot and characters to my beloved, who is exceptionally good at sifting through my subconscious.

Most recently, I had a nightmare that meshed coworkers from several different workplaces, a near-accident involving 3 small children playing in the road, and an old friend of mine who didn’t recognize me.  In each chapter of the nightmare, I tried to convince someone of my identity, of my place in the world, or of my story.  In each chapter, I failed.

My least favorite recurring nightmare is something I call “Vanilla Sky” because I “wake up” (while still dreaming) to find that my current life is not my life, but rather some elaborate delusion.  I don’t learn anything about myself from that nightmare except that the movie creeped me out on a soul level.

(This entry is part of one month of gratitude.)

grateful for pens

The awkwardness of typing about handwriting is not lost on me as I write about writing instruments. While I have always been a fan of the written word, my fascination with fountain pens is only a few years old.  I do not remember how it began, although certainly it was fueled by my penchant for anachronism.  I needed almost no nudge at all to begin collecting beautiful pens that afforded excellent writing experiences.  Since I write most of my first drafts longhand, I have an excuse to continue to collect them.  At least that is what I tell myself.

(This entry is part of one month of gratitude.)