Sense of Adventure

Emma and I were walking back down the ditch on the return leg of our walk this afternoon when on the far bank I saw an older Latino guy in a white straw cowboy hat, jeans and a Western shirt coming the other way. That type isn’t superabundant here in the central RGV, but up in northern New Mexico everybody’s grand-dad looks like that. Behind him tottered a four-year-old boy in red shirt and blue shorts - and also a black cape, a Batman mask, and, somewhat inexplicably, carrying a plastic sword.

I did a double-take. It ws so incongruous at first I thought the kid was wearing a black devil mask. Then the older guy said, “I found this caped crusader wandering behind me along the ditch.”

That was so splendid I had to laugh with delight. I’m afraid the lad misinterpreted that as showing disrespect, for he held high his sword and declared, with fierce conviction, “I’m Batman!”

Yes. Yes, you are. Emma stared at him as if he were Ziggy Stardust complete with the Spiders from Mars. I had to hustle her along lest the caped crusader wreak dreadful retribution on us.

A little farther on I tawt I taw a Harrier flying over the ditch. Not this:

But this:

Not pictured: Gamera

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So the other night I went to dinner with some of the usual ASFS suspects (you know who you are.) As a couple of us sat at India Palace, a fine Burque eating establishment, waiting for the rest of the party to turn up, we really liked the music playing over the speakers. It was jaunty, clearly Eastern with more than a hint of Western rock and pop. So we asked what it was.

The waiters, who seem, huge surprise, to be East Indian themselves (a necessary distinction around here, for what should be obvious reasons) were bemused by our question. We were not hugely surprised when they told us it was the soundtrack of a Bollywood movie called Fanaa.

I was pleased to find it available on eMusic, the DRM-free music download service I subscribe to, which has a great selection if you don’t insist on the current chart toppers. (Another huge surprise: I don’t.) So I went ahead and used seven of my monthly DLs to snag it.

Having downloaded it overnight I just put it on WinAmp on my notebook PC, as I sit here on the couth in the living room. Emma lay snoozing on the floor by the other sofa - she’s usually outside this time of day; I think the wind bugs her. Me too.

No sooner did the music start to play than she lifted her head, gave me a reproachful look (which she does really, really well) over her shoulder, got up, and took herself off to the office and the sanctuary of her pen. So much for Indian music!

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Yep. How anti-Pythagorean of me. (Or not; although as is so often the case, the “debunking” on the linked-to site seems to rely largely on flat assertion. Meanwhile the whole “favism“ thing, claiming Pythagoras’ supposed injunctions against beans were meant to avoid bad medical reactions, strikes me as pretty post facto, mapping modern outlooks onto ancient beliefs, like attributing all vampire legends to porphyria.)

So … where was I? If “digression” ever becomes a marketable skill, Bill Gates will be doing my laundry (I was going to say “windows,” but we all know how that turned out, don’t we?)

Anyway … had a rough night last night, losing sleep to attacks by various forms of the Fear, now fortunately rare but rough when it hits. As a result I slept way late. I was wondering what to eat for my late lunch/super-late breakfast when I realized I wanted beans.

I know. I’m as surprised as you are.

So I went and chopped up some onion, dumped it into a can of black beans, and heated that on the stove. Then I defrosted me a Kosher hot dog and heated that inside a low-carb tortilla. Out of mad inspiration I added the beans’n'onions, creating a sort of weird impromptu burrito.

While the first bite was a disappointment, it actually turned out pretty well. YMMV, as always. And as a side I had some walnuts, making this small meal SuperFood-intensive. Also low on starch and not liable to cause much glycemic loading.

For some time now I’ve tried to reduce my intake of starches and things which would spike my GL (which is a much more useful indicator than glycemic index.) It’s a good way to lose weight as well as head off all kinds of potential nasty health complications. For more information I strongly urge you to read The Glycemic-Load Diet by Rob Thompson. Especially if you have diabetes or think you probably wouldn’t like to.

Indeed it’s often occurred to me to start a blog devoted to the concept called La Vida Low-Starch to share what I learn, from research and doing (which is to say, “cooking and eating.”) Which I might yet.

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So when I finally hauled myself out of bed, hot upon the crack of noon (despite my determination to regularize my sleep schedule - which I will do - inspiration hit me late on the current Rogue Angel book; and while I never wait on inspiration, when it strikes, I don’t dodge) I glanced out the wind-blown front curtains to see my little calico pal Clarice trot by up the sidewalk, intent upon her Important Cat Business. I resolved to go out and say hi; haven’t seen her in a few days.

What with my usual routine I got distracted. I sat down on the sofa by the coffee table to drink my cocoa and ice my left arm, which seems afflicted with tendonitis. And I managed to upset my Giant Red Mug o’ Ice Water with the power cable to the notebook PC.

This was aggravating but fortunately I didn’t let my blood pressure spike over it. Nothing really got hurt; and it’s the desert, for gods’ sakes; the humidity’s like 9%. I did sop up as much excess water and ice cubes with a bath towel as I could. And when I went to toss ‘em out front Clarice reminded me she was in the area by getting up from her comfortable spot in the neighbor’s yard and hopping the fence.

I took the towel and bowl I’d used inside and fetched out some treats, of a kind my cats currently spurn. Clarice and I have been friends for a long time - a lawn-design sketch I did for the front yard several years ago features a depiction of her lying in a corner of the yard - and it really got cemented when, in emulation of my friend Larry, I started giving her treats.

So anyway we hung out a while. I left the inner front door open and TJ came to the screen. And Clarice hissed at him.

(Yes, there really is a prehistoric monster in here. We’re getting there. Seriously.)

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