I’m back at the list of thirty-three experiences. I discovered recently that it’s easy to get caught up in the daily grind of life, but the time left in this year has begun to tick louder than that faint whisper I heard the first half of the year when I began this journey. I have many experiences to go before a new year dawns, so I’m getting back to the list with a renewed vigor.
Which led me into two days of food experimentation. In addition to Sushi, I had listed trying ethnic food on my list. I’m not a big food experimenter. Usually just the smell of most food causes me not to want to eat it, so actually putting it onto my list was a big deal.
First, Saturday night, I tried Thai. I actually tasted the Thai tea. I don’t ingest any caffeine, so even its slightest addition bothers me, but I did try it. Well, if two sips count, I tried it. In my experimenting parameters, it counts so I’m just going to go with that. I ate Thai fried rice, but messed up by not getting it as hot as it could go during my experimentation. Next time, I will just go for it. I figure all that hot sauce I pour on everything has to have built up some tolerance.
Then, my book club selection this month, Secret Daughter, was set in India, so Monday night’s hostess served Indian fare at our dinner meeting. The food was absolutely wonderful. Amazing how ethnic spices can transform chicken and potatoes, which I eat all the time, into something completely different. I left book club with the recipes for some experimentation on my own ethnic meals at home.
I realized after Monday night that I’ve definitely branched out of my narrow food choices. Once I wouldn’t even eat Chinese food at a Chinese restaurant, now I eat Chinese, Japanese, Thai, and Indian. Who knows what will be next? Maybe people will stop calling me a picky eater. (I’m actually pretty sure the list of disgusting food I refuse to try hasn’t shortened all that much, but there is hope.)
Thursday, September 22, 2011
Monday, September 5, 2011
Moving Day
I’m back. No, I didn’t get sucked into this unending hole of moving. At least I think that’s the light beyond the pile of boxes.
The house has been an experience that I wouldn’t want to repeat too many times in my life time. Like none. I have said that the next time I move, I will sell all my belongings and buy new things just so I don’t have to pack and move everything again.
I have nearly transformed every room in the house into how I envisioned it though. This involved plenty cans of paint and several small home improvement projects. When I announced that I needed help painting though, I learned that people have many things to say that all lead to them not liking to paint. Everyone stayed away. Everyone did show up to help move my belongings though. (I think if they would have known exactly how much I own, they would have volunteered to paint instead.) Much was said moving day about my apparent fondness for shopping. I don’t hear complaints when I pass things onto them though. At the end of the day, every box was moved into my house, but it didn’t appear as if there would be room for us to actually live with our things. I may like to shop, but I can also organize. Everything will always find a place… eventually.
The first day/night I spent in the new place, I decided to do something that I’ve never done in my life… cut grass. It was a matter-of-fact decision. It needed to be cut, and I’m the only adult living in the house. So I did it. No big deal. Well, apparently it is hard work and you should actually check on the amount of gasoline before you run out in the middle of the yard, but hey, no big deal. The next day I was sick…. my sinuses. Coincidence? Does it really matter? It’s not as if I can declare myself allergic to grass and stop cutting it every time it decides to grow. I’m still the only adult living here. It won’t cut itself for me no matter how many times I curse at the blisters I got from pushing the lawn mower.
Besides that, the house is great. I’m down to putting the finishing touches and only three boxes to unpack. I actually see a future where I’m living in it instead of moving into it, and that is a happy thought.
The house has been an experience that I wouldn’t want to repeat too many times in my life time. Like none. I have said that the next time I move, I will sell all my belongings and buy new things just so I don’t have to pack and move everything again.
I have nearly transformed every room in the house into how I envisioned it though. This involved plenty cans of paint and several small home improvement projects. When I announced that I needed help painting though, I learned that people have many things to say that all lead to them not liking to paint. Everyone stayed away. Everyone did show up to help move my belongings though. (I think if they would have known exactly how much I own, they would have volunteered to paint instead.) Much was said moving day about my apparent fondness for shopping. I don’t hear complaints when I pass things onto them though. At the end of the day, every box was moved into my house, but it didn’t appear as if there would be room for us to actually live with our things. I may like to shop, but I can also organize. Everything will always find a place… eventually.
The first day/night I spent in the new place, I decided to do something that I’ve never done in my life… cut grass. It was a matter-of-fact decision. It needed to be cut, and I’m the only adult living in the house. So I did it. No big deal. Well, apparently it is hard work and you should actually check on the amount of gasoline before you run out in the middle of the yard, but hey, no big deal. The next day I was sick…. my sinuses. Coincidence? Does it really matter? It’s not as if I can declare myself allergic to grass and stop cutting it every time it decides to grow. I’m still the only adult living here. It won’t cut itself for me no matter how many times I curse at the blisters I got from pushing the lawn mower.
Besides that, the house is great. I’m down to putting the finishing touches and only three boxes to unpack. I actually see a future where I’m living in it instead of moving into it, and that is a happy thought.
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