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Gave blood after work on Tuesday; nothing gives me a clearer feeling of life being normal and my health being back where it should be again. I swept in last thing, and the staff were fried and wired from the vast parade of tiny veins from tiny students. Fortunately, by that hour, the place is full of hard-core donors* who know the routine as well as the nurses, waving their loyalty badges and free coasters. The guy across from me while we were enjoying our tea and crisps was deeply annoyed that he'd forgotten his free coaster letter, but when I left him he was successfully chatting up the angry girl with a silver donor's badge, so he didn't leave empty-handed.

Today's Farmer's market rocked mightily, this evening was spiced pigeon cooked on a bed of red curly kale, followed by Shadowweaver Black Stout and Dark Chocolate Cups (a collaboration between Tunnel Brewery and Chocolate Confetti). I have to get some lighter pans, though, I can't saute a damn thing in timscience's le creuset.

And then I remembered this week's strip from three weeks ago, let it all go. I should get the others up, too.

Let it all go
Let it all go
I can never take my own advice.

*and various friends, who may or may no be hard-core donors themselves.


( 1 worm — Feed the birds )
16th Apr, 2009 05:24 (UTC)
Once I began to think about regretting the regret I regret, it started to lead down comiedic paths. Poignant wording, lessons in arts. As usual the Jeremy Dennis, well done!
( 1 worm — Feed the birds )