The Depression

Well, I'm not saying it has come to Aberdeen, even though Weyerhaeuser basically pulled out the other day, taking with it the reamaining 54 in-town jobs it had, because we haven't had any bank runs, even though WaMu got dissolved and is now Chase. Things like the FDIC are very good.

So things here are kind of on the bleak tip, not too different from normal, actually. But I think, like our neighbors in Europe and to the south, when the US gets a cold the rest of the world gets pneumonia, that kind of applies to the Harbor, too. The rest of the country or state suffers a setback, the Harbor gets kneecapped by it.

I'm not really sure how "The NOW Habit" fits into this, with its anti-procrastination advice that includes an anecdote about the author's jumping out a plane in airborne training that he manages to sound like he talked himself into taking control in a bad situation fits in when the discussion is about a community, but it seems it might be one way of going about. Embracing the bleakness, taking charge, surging forward as if it comes from volition. They're rambly ideas, but maybe not such bad ones.

The perpetual bland sitcom comedy of my life with Ray had a pretty iffy episode this weekend. Ray decided to make a recipe for "Block Party Baked Beans" from the new Cooks Country and I was like, "as a main dish?" and he was like, "that's what it is." And I was like, "I think it's a side," and he was like, "it has meat in it," so I had to concede that point.

Among beans you get in a can it has lima beans and green beans in it, even though it's more of a smoky-tangy-sweetish dish. So I was all, "let's swap out the lima beans for peas," but you cannot get Ray to freestyle with a Cooks Country recipe. So I have been eating some lima beans, people. Lima beans. Disgusting. They get worse as they age, and the final of these lima beans that I eat will be really bad because that Cooks Country apparently intended the recipe to feed a block party of hungry people. We've got frozen beans. And the green beans in the red sauce are not exactly floating my boat either. They're kind of crunchy so it ruins my ability to tell myself I'm eating chili or maybe sloppy joe stuff without a bun.

Other than that, and the intense bloating from the gas, I'm enjoying the beans. Cooks Country is fun.

We went to the Shorebirds Festival this weekend with Beth and Chris. The alleged shuttle bus ran maybe every half hour, which I think means it should not be called a shuttle bus. And the weather was iffy. But we saw some birds. No peacocks or ostriches, but the excitement among the bird people seemed to indicate we'd just missed the bandersnatches. No, seriously, Winged Migration (note the sourpuss who wrote THAT entry!) is an amazing thing, but once you've seen the movie you can't just experience the cold, wet, very distant reality of the boring brown birds the same way.

If I sound unenthusiastic it's probably because the Scotch Broom and some sort of tree pollen are sucking away my ability to feel joy. They are making me anhedonic, as well as unable to breathe through my nose. Life as a mouthbreather is not for me. I feel acutely unproductive and I'm embarrassed to talk to people face to face as I'm also a sneezing mess.

Instead, I prefer to curl up with a good book. So far, I've been finding that good book in A Fraction of the Whole. Also see this site for a brief synopsis of the ideas in it. It is just profoundly interestingly written. I am digging it deeply. Every page is dynamic. (And here comes the forced anhedonia part) I'm only a couple chapters in so... (okay back to rave) I'm sure it will be great all the way throughout. Oh please let it be this good throughout.

Next up is "The White Tiger," which actually won the Booker prize. If it isn't as mind-blowingly AWESOME as "A Fraction of the Whole" or "Sea of Poppies" I'll be annoyed. But it sounds pretty awesome too, no?

Oh, speaking of putting "no" at the end of a sentence, I have managed to create my own sentence in French: Ne touchez pas ma poulet, cest sensetif. (Don't touch my chicken, it is sensitive) Apologies for spelling errors and also maybe ma should be mon. But see, French is like English in that when it comes to pronunciation of spellings you can kind of fake some of it with nonchalance and a low voice. At least, that's what it seems like. I'll probably be gutted by any actual french people.

MA POULET EST SENSITIF.