meander.
It's funny; when you have a cold or the flu, you spend a lot of time receiving advice from others as to how you can best cure what ails you. Often these bits of advice contradict one another -- everyone has a folk cure they claim brought a friend or relative back from the brink of certain death -- but sometimes, they don't make any sense at all. Today, one of my coworkers watched me make tea in the staff room while I stood there coughing. He shook his head when I began sipping the soothing liquid and said, "You're just going to cook the germs right into your throat."
What?
Radio wouldn't let me update all day -- not until just now, and gosh, my brain is blank. Apparently, I must have cooked the thoughts right out of my head
And speaking of cooking, it's a good thing my friend Jenn isn't God. I know that my previous sentence will render her completely incredulous, even as she agrees with it. But let me explain.
Jenn, like me, is an apologizer. She can make you the best dinner (which she did tonight) and think of five things in the dinner that she should somehow be sorry for -- five things that are notably flawed or problematic, but only to her. With all due respect, I can never guess what the heck she's referring to, since everything is always delicious -- she's a fabulous cook. When I was on my way home tonight, I was imagining if Jenn had made the world. There's a gazillion beautiful places and things to see and enjoy across the planet and a gazillion ecological and weather systems at work that operate in the midst of that beauty. It's completely epic and amazing.
But I can just imagine it: rain starts to fall from the sky in the jungle, and a booming voice comes out of the clouds, "Sorry, I hope the rain is okay for everyone; it's probably a little heavy, hey?"
Or in the desert, as the sun beats down on the reddish clay and tumbleweeds roll across the flat, cracked surface of the earth: "Wow, it's a little dry, hey? Sorry. I was going to add water, but I didn't want it to get all mushy."
It wouldn't be crickets keeping you awake at night in the forest. No, it would be the voice of Jenn-God saying, "Sorry -- that's kind of annoying, hey?" after every chirp.
I love you, Jenn -- dinner was excellent, and so are you.
And speaking of excellent, I passed a busker in the train station today -- a man playing violin with a taped classical accompaniment. I'd heard music coming up out of the station to where I was buying flowers and it was really lovely. I made up my mind to give whoever was making that music a couple bucks out of appreciation. As soon as I came down the stairs, the song ended, and I went over and dropped a couple loonies in his bin (I know, I know -- spare me the joke). He looked wistfully at me and said, "That's the first two bucks I have made in three hours. " I was totally horrified by this.
What kind of city couldn't support street musicians of this calibre? I comiserated with him for a moment and then dropped in another couple bucks in his jar in solidarity. He thanked me and leaned over to press play on the tape. There was that lovely music again! He lifted his bow with a reverent face and began to move it... near the strings.
Not on the strings. Near them. The tune on the tape soared through a lovely violin solo over an orchestral accompaniment, and his bow followed every single note -- but it didn't touch the instrument once.
I gave five bucks to a dude playing Air Violin.
Anyhow, I think it's time for me to get some sleep. This flu is hanging on like a barnacle to my immune system. And as my friends know, if there is one barnacle on the entire expanse of the ocean floor, I will find a way to scrape myself on it.
Speaking of things on the ocean floor, I love starfish. When I taught snorkeling at camp, I used to take kids on little swim tours along the coastline to look at all the gorgeous red, orange, purple, blue and ivory-coloured creatures clinging to the rocks below.
Sometimes I would disappear below the surface for a while, collect a bunch of the tiny ones, and stick them all over my snorkel mask. Then I'd come up out of the water yelling, "AAAA! They're eating my face!" This was only funny about 50% of the time. The other 50% of the time, I'd have to explain to some poor child that no, starfish didn't eat faces and yes, I was a complete dork.
Hey, I was young.
And speaking of young, this night no longer is. Tomorrow is another early day.
Love to all and a million thanks for all your well-wishes for my health.
12:15:18 AM 
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