I Love Stuff.

I love the event horizon of a bad week. The point where, once you slip past, the week can't get any worse and can't be too far from over.

I love sriracha. Its one of the perfect condiments. Salty, spicy, and loaded with MSG. When I eat it, I feel all-american and worldly at the same time.

I love seeing things that others don't. Last night, I watched in horror as a young woman sat next to an agitated schizophrenic for hours as he got drunker and more handsy. How can you not see that the guy next to you is carrying on 4 conversations and none of them are with people you can see? And when he reaches toward you to touch your leg, you don't notice someone invading your space? Those I might forgive, but when the guy coughs up a phlegm-rocket and it lands on your foot?! I worry for that girl, she may not have seen mental illness, but she should at least be aware of the contagion...

I love rice noodles. They're beautifully simple, just rice flour and water. Extremely delicate and fine-textured, and pretty to look at. They have an uncanny way of absorbing things... I made some for lunch and by the time I sat down to eat, they had soaked up all the liquid in my soup. I want to be like a rice noodle, simple & delicate and able to absorb anything. This week, that would have come in handy with the extra stress-juice around.

I love little reminders that the universe has a sense of humor, like the duck-billed platypus. If he were asked, I bet the platypus would look at me the same way... "what kind of creature is this, naked and narrow and unable to detect electricity under water? Its useless!".