Reflections on life inspired by masa harina.

I don't mean to be awake. For once I think maybe I got too much sleep this weekend, and now I'm sitting here without my contacts eating leftovers because it's too early to reasonably go running and head in to work. Chris made braised pork tacos with salsa verde, green rice, and Oaxacan shrimp cocktail for dinner last night for us and all our neighbors. I helped make the tortillas. The man can cook. Let the record show that I am marrying well.

If I have one piece of advice for you, it's don't try to type a blog entry without your contact lenses in.

If I have another, it's make sure to marry a man who knows how to braise a piece of meat until it's falling apart.

I feel myself becoming just like my parents only more random. In the non-mathematical, colloquial sense of random. Possibly also in the mathematical sense.

I woke up thinking about colors and the emotional states they've come to represent. I know what it means to be blue, (sad), green (jealous), red (angry), and yellow (cowardly). Seondary colors get relatively short emotional shrift; I don't know what it means to be orange or purple. There's a colorless green ideas sleep furiously comment to be made in here somewhere.

I bet I'm spilling crumbs all over the couch.