Saturday, June 9, 2007


My compost has a temperature. It's at least 130º and is nice and damp. I'm kind of embarrassed to admit I hauled out my meat thermometer to get a reading. I'm fascinated with compost.

Today I interacted (i.e. exchanged verbal language) with:

• A guy on the phone who is running a study I might participate in.
• My friend Emily on the phone.
• The cashier at Big Lots.
• A woman in SuperCompare, who first explained to me what mamón is (the fruit, not the pejorative*) and then encouraged me to try one**.
• The cashier at SuperCompare.
• Two different clerk-types, a vitals-sign taker, a phlebotomist and my neurologist (doctor's appointment) at Evil Southern Private University Medical Center.
• My next-door neighbor.
• His dog. (That's stretching the "verbal language" part of my definition a bit, I know)

I have: green beans, eensy cucumbers, one wee yellow straightneck squash, several tomatoes, and thriving dill.

*Hm. I'm not sure that "fruit" contrasts all that well with the Spanish slang term.
**This thread of conversation is just ripe*** with opportunities for puns and misunderstandings.