angry turkey
Dec. 2nd, 2002 10:56 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
brightbluegirlTurkey day was good.
I made SO MUCH FOOD.
It was all extremely good except the gravy, which sucked. That's what I get for actually trying to make a turkey gravy instead of making a veggie gravy. Veggie gravy is more flavourful, and easier, and just plain nicer.
I've learned my lesson. I'll do the veggie gravy for Christmas.
Which is only 3 weeks away.
Which means there is only 3 weeks until my mother gets here.
Which means I have only 3 weeks to scour the house, dye my hair "normal", finish buying presents, finish sending out presents to the Canadians on my list, make a gingerbread house, and decorate the tree.
Piece of cake.
Floyd was here on the weekend. That was great. I haven't seen him in over a year. We talked for the first two days, straight. He gets along with Andrew, he's interesting to talk to, and he's a good friend. I like having Floyd near.
I was really glad when he left, though. It was just nice to have the space back. I tidied, and then ended up in bed at 9:15. I can be such a loser sometimes. :P But I feel pretty good today.
Having a friend around like that can really reduce my stress level. It was fantastic. SO fantastic.
One thing I figured out - Floyd likes to talk. He likes the sound of his voice telling people things. :P I have no problems with that - he knows a lot of really cool things. It was amusing to move through the weekend, listening, putting in comments every once in awhile to spur him on, and know that I understood his actions on another level.
I like understanding these things.
Humans are neat. Just another kind of pattern to be unravelled. Each pattern is different, but that's part of the fun.
I was going to write more, but I lost interest. In a big way.
I'm feeling sort of angry at a specific set of people who don't deserve it. I don't know why, really. Their way of writing, maybe. Feeling like I've been completely brushed aside, that I'm not important to them, maybe.
Not that I need to be important to those people, right? I've got my man, and lots of good friends, and I'm important to myself.
But it makes it difficult for me to feel like writing. Why pour my heart out when people I'm sort of angry at will be listening/reading?
I made SO MUCH FOOD.
It was all extremely good except the gravy, which sucked. That's what I get for actually trying to make a turkey gravy instead of making a veggie gravy. Veggie gravy is more flavourful, and easier, and just plain nicer.
I've learned my lesson. I'll do the veggie gravy for Christmas.
Which is only 3 weeks away.
Which means there is only 3 weeks until my mother gets here.
Which means I have only 3 weeks to scour the house, dye my hair "normal", finish buying presents, finish sending out presents to the Canadians on my list, make a gingerbread house, and decorate the tree.
Piece of cake.
Floyd was here on the weekend. That was great. I haven't seen him in over a year. We talked for the first two days, straight. He gets along with Andrew, he's interesting to talk to, and he's a good friend. I like having Floyd near.
I was really glad when he left, though. It was just nice to have the space back. I tidied, and then ended up in bed at 9:15. I can be such a loser sometimes. :P But I feel pretty good today.
Having a friend around like that can really reduce my stress level. It was fantastic. SO fantastic.
One thing I figured out - Floyd likes to talk. He likes the sound of his voice telling people things. :P I have no problems with that - he knows a lot of really cool things. It was amusing to move through the weekend, listening, putting in comments every once in awhile to spur him on, and know that I understood his actions on another level.
I like understanding these things.
Humans are neat. Just another kind of pattern to be unravelled. Each pattern is different, but that's part of the fun.
I was going to write more, but I lost interest. In a big way.
I'm feeling sort of angry at a specific set of people who don't deserve it. I don't know why, really. Their way of writing, maybe. Feeling like I've been completely brushed aside, that I'm not important to them, maybe.
Not that I need to be important to those people, right? I've got my man, and lots of good friends, and I'm important to myself.
But it makes it difficult for me to feel like writing. Why pour my heart out when people I'm sort of angry at will be listening/reading?
