Blather, Wince And Repeat

Perhaps when I announced a renewed commitment to blogging I should have gone with a less aggressive goal of posting once a week. Ah well.

Guess what? I haven’t been playing piano every day, either, though I have been playing about every other day. I am rediscovering a phenomenon from way back when: When I’m struggling with a passage despite repeated drills — and by the way, there truly is no better outlet for someone with OCD tendencies than playing a musical instrument, or perhaps golf — I find it far easier to play if I come back after a day or two. So maybe I shouldnt feel too bad about short lapses.


This is apropos of nothing, but one day at work a colleague mentioned she’d been having dreams about multiple cats, all of which look basically the same. I’ve had that same dream (in mine I’m usually trying to find Simon among a large group of interloping Simon imposters, some of which I suspect to be disease-ridden and violence-prone) at least once a week for more than a decade, and as it so happens, another of the editors within earshot also has this dream regularly. And yet, I never see it in the “literature” about dreams and their interpretations. Why is that?


Yesterday, when I was too tired to do anything but lie in bed all day, I read Why We Get Fat by Gary Taubes. Taubes has caught plenty of hell for “cherry-picking” data to make his case against sugar, but you know what? I mostly buy his argument. I’ve felt my healthiest and most even-keeled during periods of moderate to severe carbohydrate restriction, so I’m having another go at it. On the menu tonight: steak and spinach salad. The first couple of days of low-carb dieting are blissful until someone comes along and offers you a cookie or margarita. Let us see if the willpower holds up this time.

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