Apr 29 2001 0 comments

Daily Condition:

on record player: Jazz compilation Maxell promo album

my condition: uncomfortably warm

Apr 22 2001 0 comments

When I said it was time for bed, she ran off, angry that she couldn't keep coloring. I dashed after her, and found her still holding the magenta marker that she had been using. Forcefully, I grabbed it from her hand. Just as she was about to cry, I made a funny face and pretended that I was drawing on my tongue.

Of course, that made her laugh - she realized I was just trying to be silly, that I wasn't angry, and now she wasn't angry about having to go to bed, either. Psychological warfare, confuse then amuse, always works.

Normally, she'd go "don't write on your tongue! no!" However, this time -- she called my bluff. "Yeah -- write on your tongue! Do it!"

Thirty seconds later, we're both looking at ourselves in the mirror, mouths open, admiring magenta smiley-faces on our tongues. I'm strangely proud that I could sketch with such accuracy on my own tongue. She is finding it hard to laugh with her tongue sticking out.

Apr 21 2001 0 comments

Commentary of bigotry in America:(14.4 : 28.8) Scott Simon makes a good point about hate, without attacking the bigots in return.

Apr 21 2001 0 comments

Derek Is Reading:

Mighty Good Road, by Melissa Scott

Apr 1 2001 0 comments

Derek Is Reading:

Web Sites That Work by Roger Black

Apr 1 2001 0 comments

After discarding the peeled-back 'freshness seal', I dig my knife in. Twisting as I sweep the blade in a curly reverse-'S' motion, I suddenly stop, realizing what's missing.

Leaving the knife sticking out, I turn the jar so I can see the label closer.

Creamy? How'd I miss that? I dimly remember noticing that the peanut butter subsection of the "bread/mustard/pickles/Jello/Koolaid" aisle seemed to have been rearranged, but I thought nothing of it at the time.

I look into the garbage to compare labels with the empty jar, but I had already taken it out to the dumpster. I study the newly-opened jar again, knife shifting slightly as I turn it. There are whole peanuts on the outside, I think to myself, that should indicate crunchy, right? Then, I remember a problem with Gerber baby-food. Cultures who expect the images on a label to represent the contents were horribly disturbed at to see small mush-filled jars with pictures of babies on the outside.

I grasp the knife, scooping out creamy peanut butter, again noticing a lack of the grinding sound representative of crunchy peanut butter, and spread it on my toast. It still tastes the same; it's just not crunchy.