The day is no less gray to day, but I feel pretty good, all in all. Wore my dress to work today and got a lot of compliments on it as well as some curiosity as to the occasion, as I normally don't wear nice clothing unless there's an occasion, but I just said that it was because I now had it, so I should wear it. So I have.
That's been nice.
The visit from Raven last night was very nice as well, and we had fun talking about a lot of things. Dinner was mushroom pasta for myJohn and I and Raven and John had a good time with puns and stuff. John was exhausted from the night before, so went to sleep around 8, and Raven and I curled up on the couch and talked about this, that and everything.
One of the things included the reality of my leg. I am, presently, upset about my leg. It bothers me that it's not whole, that there's a part of me that's broken. Though, in the Tao Te Ching it says that only what has been crooked can become truly straight, what is ill is what can become well, what is drained is all that can become renewed. Raven rather matter-of- factly said that I was going to become well, that I was going to go like fire through Physical Therapy and that I was going to play soccer again.
Simply because that was how I am.
I believed him. Emotionally, I'm still a bit stuck on the simple fact that my knee won't do everything that I want it to, but logically and along that line of reasoning, I can't really raise a real objection to his argument. He's right. I am going to get better.
The other thing that we talked through was my involvement, with Markleford and that I'm really not sure that there is anything more I can do for him, and that he's simply at a point where he has to take his own next step. As much as I might argue that he has gotten somewhere, or that he might actually be somewhere since he has done things, or that he might be able to get somewhere simply by walking for a while, even if he can't see all the way to the end of his path, he isn't going to get it until *he* gets it. I can't make him get it. That the way that Raven and I see the world isn't an exclusive kind of sight, that anyone really could see the world the way that we do if they just tried it one item, one action at a time.
Just give yourself the room to do it in, the freedom to enjoy something fully, to be childish, to be enamored with something that isn't really all that much in the grand scale of things.
The easiest way for me to cripple something that I want to do is by attaching significance to it.
I realized, the other night, in the midst of all that anger, that reality is that we don't get out of this alive, that entropy will eat everything that exists, that in the grand scale of things, we're all dust. So how can anything measure up against that? So if it's all just dust, then I might as well enjoy the motes that I get, as small is only small relative to something. Compared to that my worries, my guilts, my problems are so small that I may as well laugh at them, instead. Choose what dust to stir and what dust to leave lie. Those are mine to choose at any moment of any day and to choose differently as I wish and as pleases me.
How many folks see futility as a freedom? If I'm not going to be remembered in the huge scale of things anyway, I may as well enjoy what isn't going to be held by anyone but me. *grin*
Eh, but to be real about it all, they get to choose what they choose. And I really know that I can't get anyone to choose something other than what they are doing. There are no shoulds when something is already done. I just enjoy what I have is all.
It's winter again, after the near-spring of the last week or so. The cold has rolled back in with threats of snow. John was forgetful last night and turned off the heater while he was checking on some banging of the new hot water pipes. So Raven and I were curled up under a blanket as we did a lot of our talking. That was funny, the poor boy was freezing. Cold hands, warm heart seems to apply pretty well.
Food's been another topic of constant conversation between him and I, especially with that insane diet that he's been pursuing with full heart. He's far, far more confident about his cooking abilities now, especially compared to when he first appeared on my doorstep and was amazed by the simple fact that anyone could make pasta on their countertop. That was fun, but it's better now because he knows enough to really talk through technique and think through some possibilities.
Like hard-boiled eggs. How do you do hard-boiled eggs? There seem to be as many ways to do them as there are people who eat them and degrees of doneness that are entirely up to individual taste. The way I'd been taught as a kid was to boil water, drop eggs gently into the boiling water and cook for the amount of time that would get them to be done the way you wanted them to be done. Kathy liked them 10 minutes, hard as a rock, as Mom used to say. Dad liked 'em at about three minutes, were the yolk was entirely liquid and the whites just barely setup. Mom and I liked 'em around four minutes, where the whites were solid, the edges of the yolk were cooked and solidified but still golden in the middle.
I've learned that one can bring a batch of eggs up to a very gentle boil for about eight minutes, then dunk them in ice water and let them soak for a while, and you get pretty much what Mom and I had. Another way, that I just learned from Raven is to put the eggs in cold water, bring the whole up to a boil and then take them off the heat, put a lid on the pot and let them sit for about fifteen minutes and then to soak in cold water for a while as well. They come out much the same as the four minute egg, but with some insurance that there is no sulfurous green build up along the outsides of the yolks. As many ways to do them as there are people with their own individual tastes and desires and combinations of water and eggs in the shell.
In reality there is an infinite number of degrees of combination between completely cooked and uncooked eggs. It's kinda fun to see what does fall out, though. It's a little like the difference between sunny side up, over-easy, over-medium, over-hard, or just scrambled with fried eggs.
As much to wonder over an egg as there is in most things.
I think that that is why I like Raven so much, is that he's as willing to dive into a complete and detailed study of boiled eggs as he is willing to dive into someone else's life for a bit. Everything is fascinating, everything has some wealth of experience, information, or learning to be gained from the attention. That's what's so fun about living, and what's fun about talking with him. John's like that, too, and I can go and discover things with him that most people just don't think is worth the time of day to even look at; but we find so much.
That's what's cool about living this way.
Today's been a good day at work, getting lots of things done. Everything is up and gradually running, though my mail is still kinda somewhere I don't know. That's the mail at work, that is. My eskimo mail is going just fine.
Had lunch at the deli across the street with folks from work and found out that the deli has a one free lunch after ten here. Treated the IS guys for all the crazy work that they've been doing, with all the re-wiring and stuff that they've been having to do, it's been a little tough. I'm glad that they're mostly done with all that and it's really keen, again to have a network connection. Hoorah!
Actually got to see my page three days after I put it up. That is actually pretty keen. And, yes, the font is Banshee.
Have to admit it. Life doesn't really get much better than a good problem to solve, a mug of oolong tea, and the peace and quiet with which to solve the problem. Okay... a few biscotti cookie ends doesn't hurt, either. The next door neighbor is an Italian bakery that only does wholesale biscotti and Panforte Di Siena, which is a lovely dense sweet bread. Yum.© 1998 by Liralen Li.
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