Klutziness

Today at the screen-writing cafe that I go to sometimes when I am really over working at home, where I like the ambiance even if I don't like the iced tea or baked goods, this Buffy villain came in to work, as he frequently does. I always find his presence somewhat disturbing, or, if not disturbing, then weirdly difficult to ignore. It's not that I'm attracted to him (he is, in fact, shorter than I am, even when I am wearing flats, so those of you familiar with my apparent tall fetish know that it would be an unlikely pairing). It's just that seeing him and being in such an asymmetrical relationship -- with me knowing his name, his character's name, not to mention somehow knowing tidbits about his casting, for a part that was meant to be quite small and incidental and grew each season because of his acting talent and charisma, and by contrast me maybe possibly registering vaguely as someone he sees sometimes in the cafe -- is disconcerting. So each time I see him it starts this whole train of thought involving hierarchies and prestige and the power of the media and it's kind of distracting. And there he is working on his script, like every other person in the room except for me, with his iPod going, completely unaware of my existence. But with his presence intruding on my consciousness somehow, even as I try to write comments on a student project, or the abstract for this currently wildly all-over-the-place plenary talk I'm giving in just over a month (suddenly feeling freaked out about that, now that I type it). I'm thinking maybe that's why I knocked over a nearly full glass of water and then nearly fell off my clog as I headed past him to the bathroom a few hours ago. So nice to make a scene! At least it was just water.

By contrast, I am feeling supremely skillfull, despite the absolute lack of skills necessary, with regard to my recent obsession: growing my own sprouts. Two weeks ago, after deftly removing a blood-engorged tick from my right hip, Dr. Father-King taught me how to grow my own sprouts (it's so easy!) and then even returned to me a pickle jar that I had apparently given him when I moved from Berkeley in aught three that I could then dedicate to sprout-growing (and here I thought I was a hoarder!). I have now sprouted lentils and mung beans (as seen here) and next on the list is alfalfa. Ready in just days! So healthy! Ready to toss in a salad or even just snack on straight from the jar! They are now an integral part of my (re)new(ed) spend-less-and-weigh-less campaign. It involves lots of farmer's market shopping, recipe hunting, cooking, and then bringing food to school. And now renewed biking to campus and maybe even running again if I can find the trails that an in-shape date told me about a few weeks ago. It's all well and good, except for the part where cooking all the time also means cleaning dishes and pots and pans all the time. I know, I know, I have it better than the vast majority of the world, and a good part of this country as well. But it still doesn't stop me from selfishly wishing this place had a dishwasher...