Crickets

Last night, having written a lot of shitty prose in my blank new journal, I gave up and daydreamed myself to sleep. You know how sometimes a piece of music or a great movie gives you that happily sensual feeling? Last night it was the crickets. I turned off the TV, turned off the radio, and threw my book across the vast expanse of my bed. The chilly wind came in through my window, carrying the harmonies of crickets. I'm beginning to think I've come to like this silly Riverwest neighborhood. If I could, I'd sit and watch it go by. Better yet; I'd devote time to writing about it.

Last night I made this great new salad. Part recipe, part experiment. Potato, roasted red pepper and mustard greens. I boiled two potatoes, roasted a red pepper and wilted a bunch of mustard greens with onion and garlic. Chopped it all up, added a sherry-dijon vinaigrette and a handful of chopped fresh chives and dill, and it turned out quite well. I may play around with it a little; the vinaigrette didn't inspire me much, but otherwise, it was a success. Even my pizza/macaroni/tuna salad eating sister enjoyed it.