Zoom Zoom Zoom

I am zooming by these days, and I have accumulated a pile of interesting things to talk about. I’ll read something in the news, and I’ll think “ooh, I so have an opinion,” but I’m zooming. Zooming so fast, in fact, that I forget about the little things in the AskAdri pile. So I’m going to do a mad recap of all the things on mind, so I can get them off my mind and I can move onto bigger and better things.

  • Twin girl with eight limbs to have surgery. What worried me the most about this story was the fact that it was impossible for this family to get medical care, despite there daughter being born with four extra limbs. It wasn’t until a certain doctor “took interest” in their case that they had any hope for their daughter.
  • Twenty bar tricks you can use to win drinks off of strangers. I’m really not good at bar drinks, but part of me thinks I can pull off the one with the olive. I’m broke enough that this may the be only way I’ll have anything to drink for the rest of the month.
  • Why The New Yorker is the greatest magazine ever. I have to say, I’m a pretty big fan of the The New Yorker. Julia Germaine asked me today why everyone reads The New Yorker. My response, “well, it’s one of the few magazines in my field. It is a consistent source of well-written literary nonfiction.” She stared at me. “And,” I added, “it makes me feel smart and informed.” “I knew it!” She was smiling big at this point, “you’re all a bunch of pretentious snobs!” It is, of course, a popular opinion. Whatever. I still love The New Yorker.
  • Kick-start the writing habit. You know you want to. Don’t lie. Do it.
  • Computer artist. What an awesome thing to have on the resume.
  • 12 Reasons why Bloggers need to be better writers. I think I have the opposite problem. I’m a writer who needs to be a better blogger.

Whew. I’m glad I got that all out of my system. I feel so much… lighter. Thank you blog, for emptying my brain. Now I can fill it with tea and toast.

You would take tea and toast too if it was raining cold outside.

I went to the convenience store on Friday. The man behind the counter gave me a bic lighter. “For a pretty girl, here’s a little bit of fire.”

I’m lighting a candle as I settle in with tea to write a statement on my philosophy of teaching. I keep turning and watching the hours disappear.