09-02-2016, 07:39 PM
#1
  • kav
  • Banned
  • east of the sun,west of the moon
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I walked to the store yesterday; 35 minutes at a military pace and 40 minutes later returned home at a 55 minute older civilian man pace. When you have a rucksack with a gallon of milk, olive oil, a pound of coffee, 4 pounds butter, 4 pounds ground beef, 1pound dark chocolate and 20 cans of cat food on your back AND two hand held sacks with misc fruits, vegetables, breads, eggs, frozen salmon steaks and those killer jars of spices it is a bit of a hindrance. My nieghbor, 30 something and morbidly obese looks at me in shock as if I'll walk on water next.
Once recovered, I started prepping a lot of foods for the month; meatloaves, vegetable stock, rolled enchiladas, handgrind in my brass turkish mill french roast, boil eggs and make garlic bread to freeze. My nieghbor was on the phone to the office; his microwave blew out and he came down to use mine ( I hate that thing) for breakfast. He had a frozen burrito and a litre of coke. He's looking at all these cooking operations going at once, saw my 'old fashioned' shave kit- he uses an electric, when the plumbing backed up in his place. He thinks I'm nuts; doing all this stuff that TAKES TIME. He had to RUN, well in his case waddle to his car, he's late, peeled out in his car making a u turn in front of the trash truck. He works at the Post Office, complains about the pace. He left his new girly magazine behind. I didn't know those things are still around. I'm halfway through a biography of Verdi; 400 odd pages and will knock off another 40 today. I read like I drink wine. I go in to shave, am halfway into my second pass and my mother calls out
ARE YOU GOING TO BE LONG? Pyewacket is still in bed, stretched out on my body heat and considering breakfast in bed, or the porch to watch the world race by. I finish my fourth pass a few minutes later, slap aftershave on and scream like Homer Simpson where it was TOO close. I walk out, and catch the sunrise, drinking french roast, timing croissants in the oven. I ponder turning on the radio, hearing the latest horrors we call news. No, I'll understand today's events tommorow. I'm slowing down.

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 09-02-2016, 07:44 PM
#2
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(09-02-2016, 07:39 PM)kav Wrote: I walked to the store yesterday; 35 minutes at a military pace and 40 minutes later returned home at a 55 minute older civilian man pace. When you have a rucksack with a gallon of milk, olive oil, a pound of coffee, 4 pounds butter, 4 pounds ground beef, 1pound dark chocolate and 20 cans of cat food on your back AND two  hand held sacks with misc fruits, vegetables, breads, eggs, frozen salmon steaks and those killer jars of spices it is a bit of a hindrance. My nieghbor, 30 something and morbidly obese looks at me in shock as if I'll walk on water next.
Once recovered, I started prepping a lot of foods for the month; meatloaves, vegetable stock, rolled enchiladas, handgrind in my brass turkish mill french roast, boil eggs and make garlic bread to freeze. My nieghbor was on the phone to the office; his microwave blew out and he came down to use mine ( I hate that thing) for breakfast. He had a frozen burrito and a litre of coke. He's looking at all these cooking operations going at once, saw my 'old fashioned' shave kit- he uses an electric, when the plumbing backed up in his place. He thinks I'm nuts; doing all this stuff that TAKES TIME. He had to RUN, well in his case waddle to his car, he's late, peeled out in his car making a u turn in front of the trash truck. He works at the Post Office, complains about the pace. He left his  new girly magazine behind. I didn't know those things are still around. I'm halfway through a biography of Verdi; 400 odd pages and will knock off another 40 today. I read like I drink wine. I go in to shave, am halfway into my second pass and my mother calls out
ARE YOU GOING TO BE LONG?  Pyewacket is still in bed, stretched out on my body heat and considering breakfast in bed, or the porch to watch the world race by. I finish my fourth pass a few minutes later, slap aftershave on and scream like Homer Simpson where it was TOO close. I walk out, and catch the sunrise, drinking french roast, timing croissants in the oven. I ponder turning on the radio, hearing the latest horrors we call news. No, I'll understand today's events tommorow. I'm slowing down.

That actually sounds pretty nice. I like it. I'm a nice and mellow kind of guy.

I seldom watch or hear news anymore. I look up headlines at times just to be up to speed but that's pretty much it. Too negative.

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