In the 40s when I got up this morning — hello people in control of the weather! It’s May. No more of this cold mornings stuff unless I’m in the mountains — then I expect it to be chilly. Up there we call it “brish” and “fresh.” Here it’s damp. And this morning it was damp and chilly and overcast, and even in the early afternoon it was only 46F (about 8C for you terrorists …), though it eventually warmed up and the sun came out.
Oh my is it starting to set late.
Speaking of setting, I was thinking of making some pudding, some oat pudding this time, but I figured it would really taste better with raisins or currants or something like that, and I’m all out. Oat pudding would be the same as rice pudding, basically, but with steel cut (a.k.a. “Irish”) oats instead of rice. I suppose one could make something similar with rolled oats. I had steel cut oats for breakfast … oh my were they tasty.
And a pot of coffee, for that’s what a Sunday requires if I’m going to spend an hour doing my Sunday Brunch Writing thing. The result was not a bad text or story, but I had too little time for too much detail, and too much of it was exposition, so the result reads a bit … flat … I think.
So I called my mom for Mother’s Day and spoke to her and my step-father, and it appears they have an internet account now, so I gave them my email address — because my step-father asked — but I don’t expect much in the way of messages, and, in a way, I’d rather not get any.
I made it quite a bit further through “S” today, including through Seabound, Semisonic, Sertab (Turkish singer), Silly Wizard (Celtic folk thing from Scotland, I think) and Silverchair. Simon and Garfunkel are next.
I need to return to grading.
