Wednesday, January 30, 2013


In January: 75 degrees today.

Oh yeah, and this on Fast Money:

Tuesday, January 29, 2013

Monday, January 28, 2013


You run out of gas in the Prius on the way to Eats.  Second time.

Lawyers and accountants in the afternoon.

Sunday, January 27, 2013

awaiting the day

When this sign reads: "Jesus the Wine Drinker," or "Jesus the Weedmaker."  You are not holding your breath.

Monday, January 21, 2013

Sunday, January 20, 2013

30A songwriters festival

Davis, Phillip, Andrew; Grayton Beach, FL; Randall Bramblett getting ready to go on.

Wednesday, January 16, 2013


In almost every way.  You feed Nesta, with his newly (as of yesterday) shrunken neck.  Galina comes to clean.  Granola, strawberries and hazelnut milk for lunch.  Starbucks for breakfast (triple maciatto and bacon/gouda/egg sandwich.  You work at home most of the day.  Late afternoon you get a call from your mother lamenting that she's "lost the key to the safe."  (This is not the first time.)  She quizzes me with key questions: "how many are there?  Where are they?  Do you have one?"  (Two. You have one and Sandie does.  No.)

You ask if she's looked in her purse; she guarantees me she has.  Thoroughly.  I doubt it.  You hang up and within five minutes she's calling back saying she's found it in her coin purse, which was in her big purse.  


Monday, January 14, 2013

Sunday, January 13, 2013


You watched the Falcons almost-lose their fourth playoff game in four years.  You also watched, for the dozenth time, Local Hero (whose soundtrack you love); it served as a good lead-in to Downtown Abbey.  With Pamella.

Saturday, January 12, 2013


Yes, another one.  Sumrell's mother, who was for much of her life the organist at the chapel at Callaway Gardens.  Apparently, she could play.  You drive to Hamilton, GA for the service.  You take the scenic route on the way back and drove through Moreland, home of Lewis Grizzard.  The weather is gentle for winter: the sun in and out, temp in the high 60s .

Friday, January 11, 2013

all you want to do . . .

Is avoid the flu:


2012-2013 eclipses any of the previous six seasons, and it's still very early. Of course, it could be a year the viral hit peaks high but early, a la 2009-2010, or it could have a more traditional curve like 2007-2008. If it's the latter, a lot of people are going to get sick.

Thursday, January 10, 2013

overcast warm humid

That would be outside -- also, mostly, in the yoga room you inhabited for 80 minutes this morning. You juiced/drank an apple/carrot/ginger with a touch of ACV this morning before yoga . . . a first (i.e., "eating" before class).

Lunch with your mother at Buckhead Diner -- not a first.  She: "They have the best crabcakes in the world."  Pay attention, class; word from a pro.  You go vegetarian in ongoing ragged attempt to reform your diet.  It was, as they say, all good.

Wednesday, January 9, 2013


Second or third time so far this year.  You meet up with Pamella and Holmes.  Had the usual: black beans, collards, broccoli, with your home(there)made vinaigrette dressing.

Tuesday, January 8, 2013


With Philippe at Ammaza.  A first.

Later, you dreamed about your dad.  He was old and sick.  He came into your (a) bedroom while you were in bed.  You touched his hand.  He struggled to get into the bed and you snuggled next to him, hugging him, loving him, not saying anything.  When you awoke, you wished you had done this in real life.

Monday, January 7, 2013

the juicer

You've had your spiffy Breville juicer for half a year and used it not once.  You recently bought some sugar snap peas that turn out to be tough as dinosaur but you don't want to throw them out; you decide, finally, it's time to juice!  Instructions read and followed, you place the peas down the chute, and, you've got juice!  You taste the watery, mildly sweet liquid; it needs something else.  You combine some carrot, pear and a touch of lemon juice with it, and: dinner.

You get sucked into a TV vortex consisting of Anthony Bourdain, Guy Fieri, the big-ass college super bowl and the bald guy who does Hotel Impossible.  And now you make a public admission of it.  


Sunday, January 6, 2013

downton abbey

With Pamella, you watch the first episode (two hours worth) of season three.  It is engaging, beautiful, ridiculous, well-done, over the top, cliched -- in short, masterpiece theater.

Saturday, January 5, 2013

your mother's apartment

Which she hates.

You go over to help her do . . . what?  From the phone call it sounded like there were many minor emergencies going on all at once, i.e., the usual, and it's up to you to fix them all.  Now.  When you get there, all she wants to do is talk and show you pictures of when you were a child.  You gotta love the misdirection.  Or you'll blow your brains out. 

 It's a cold, rainy night.  Pamella takes you out to dinner; you eat at the bar (you can't believe you're actually eating again.  Oh, how soon you forget). 

Friday, January 4, 2013

last night was . . .

Rather unpleasant.  Delirium.  Headaches.  The staggers.  The sweats.  Chills.  Aching body.  Thoughts of suicide.  Depression.  Weakness.  The bathroom.   You never want to eat food again.  You get the picture.

So this is what dying feels like.  Happy new year, again.

You begin to come out of it by the afternoon and are coherent enough to make a phone call.  You look for your cell phone, which is unfindable.  Well, shit.  

You go back to bed.

 You watch John Dies at the End at home by yourself.  It's hilarious, hallucinogenic, splatter-y, visual, smart, good-looking.  It makes you feel better.

Thursday, January 3, 2013

which was a . . .

Big mistake.  After eating lunch at Little Bangkok (wtf?!) with Holmes, you get home, crawl into bed, and begin to realize how the next 24 hours are going to unfold.  Oh, shit.

Wednesday, January 2, 2013


You want to eat dinner, call a couple of places to see if they are open; you discover they're not, and dig out some week-old Thai food from the refrigerator.

Tuesday, January 1, 2013

happy new year

You're flying from SFO back to ATL with Pamella, who is feeling the . . . reverberations of new year's eve.  You arrive and eat dinner in the terminal's steak house, which is a first.