pubsign29True, no great story started with someone eating salad.

I mean, which would enspire you to read further?

“He swallowed the last of his whisky, the ice cubes tinkling as he raised the glass brusquely…”


“He hastily wrestled in vain with his salad to get it on the fork along with the last piece of crispy tofu!”

Personally, I’d go for the first. Tofu and salad don’t instill the manly vibes necessary for a great story.

It’s going to be stifling today.

I’ve watered the plants.

I’ve done the dishes.

I’ve posted on seven blogs, this is my eighth; there’ one to go.

I’ve finally emptied my e-mails, replied and/or visited blogs.

It’s so quiet outside, deathly silent. I opened the gate to check that the world was still out there.

Today, as I mentioned is a holiday for businesses, we teachers get our holiday on Wednesday. That doesn’t mean much to me, I don’t have classes, it’s a day off anyway.

I was disturbed to read yesterday in four consecutive headlines about the deaths of Peter Falk, Lauren Bacall, Tony Curtis and Ernest Borgnine… Hell, they’re dropping off like flies. These are names that I grew up with; making it abundantly apparent that I’m in the queue.

I must learn to use my ‘Reader’. Some of the blogs that I have subscribed to, for some reason, don’t notify me by e-mail and I miss their posts. Today, I remembered to use it, and all the posts were ones that had e-mailed me… but then it’s Monday, what could you expect.

It’s also nearly lunch time. I’m off to cook the rest of the white fish left over from yesterday’s sushi. Then I will take it next door to the botequim, and snack with beer while gazing across te park in the shimmering haze.

As I lack further inspration, I can only say…