First, a few requests to make this world a better place to live.

Taco Bell "Zesty" guys, SHUT UP.

The same goes for corporate lawyers with headset cell phones who invade my outdoor smoking/reading quiet space with their booming, stratosphere projection voices that belong only in conjunction with mind-numbing PowerPoint presentations. What is it with guys who think they can only be heard if they speak in a constant 80 decibal baritone? Dude, the person with whom you are speaking has just thrown his own cell phone down the hall while he goes to the john to blot the blood dripping from his ears with toilet paper, and you're still too loud.

And finally, people, please stop injuring my girl Tina who just started her internship in a pediatric ward. The girl has only been working a week and so far a pregnant lady in the throes of contraction has slung her up against a wall (10 stitches), and today a kid walked up out of the blue and kicked the shit out of her ankle. I hope she gets transferred to the trauma unit soon, where it's sure to be safer.

My day was chock full of stuff. Finished editing an article I've been agonizing over for a week. Ate lunch with Deb. Judged a digital imaging contest. But not much of it worth elaborating on. Sara cooks family dinner tonight. Preparations involved the food processor, so it should be good.

*****

Did anyone else have this game when they were a kid in the '70s? I think it was called "Touchy-Feely" or "Feely-Something-eely". You start with a big cardboard box with black felt covered hand holes on each side and fill it full of these little plastic items that came with the game. You draw a card that shows a picture of the item you're supposed to find solely by touch, then you stick your hand in the box and try to grab the right thing. There was a plastic frog. I remember that.

A vivid memory of this game jumped into my head today when I was looking for an item in my coat pocket. If you recall, I roll my own cigarettes. Every time I go outside to smoke at work, I play Touchy-Feely. My pocket holds a packet of tobacco, a slender box of rolling papers, a ballpoint pen (for tamping), a lighter, my car keys, a roll of Mentos, possibly some loose, escapee Mentos, and when it's cold like now there's also probably an ear sweater and some gloves. Why I keep all this shit in one pocket I don't know.

So I'm digging for the ballpoint pen, but the shapes are consistently wrong: tobacco, papers, Mentos, tobacco, keys, gloves, Mentos, where the fuck is that pen, tobacco. Touchy-Feely comes zooming into my head from 30 years ago.

I just hope nothing reminds me of Troll dolls tomorrow.

Moving on - 12:11 p.m. , 2007-08-14

Where the hell have I been? - 12:10 p.m. , 2007-02-19

Holy shit! - 2:24 p.m. , 2006-01-11

Stuffing recipe - 6:17 p.m. , 2005-12-13

Good Life Update - 10:22 a.m. , 2005-11-11