New knife

i need a new knife. my old knives have been sharpened too often to hold an edge for long. they tire, dull.

i know who could advise me on a knife. and if she were sitting here now, i would ask: do you feel your knife's well balanced? are you familiar with its edge? did it feel heavy at first? unbecoming? what about the action, the hard thrust upward: did you have to get used to that? did your palms sweat or did the knife's handle warm with your caress?

i said, "less obedience, more boldness. less talking, more listening."
she said, "pass me my whetstone."

I'm not bitter part 1

98% of all publications (articles and monographs) in the arts and humanities are never cited.* professors don't even check each other's precious monographs out of the library.

i'm just saying.

* Deborah C. Rohde, In Pursuit of Knowledge: Scholars, Status, and Academic Culture. Stanford UP, 2006.

Miss joyce regrets to say

mo and i head over after work to change the sheets and swap clean-for-dirty laundry and check in on the food situation, make sure she has her pills and so on....

... but when we arrive, jo's on her way to the bank, so says: "i'm terribly sorry, but i just can't accommodate you today."

Going without

i'm going public because i can't believe i'm the only one in my predicament. which is, in a word, underpants.

here i am, a fully realized adult woman about to start a new job, and i haven't got a decent pair of gaunch. i'm not asking for the moon here, just a reliable brand: cotton, comfortable, and sold by the half dozen. i don't want to think about my panties, at least not most weekday mornings; i want them to fit. and by "fit," i mean that they should cover my ass -- ideally, my entire ass -- while staying below the waistline of whatever i'm wearing on top. i want them not to ride up (or, at the risk of being indelicate, "in"). i'd like something a little more up-to-date than my jockey french cut standbys (oh, 80s, i miss your pleat-front pants) yet not quite as trendy as little boy shorts (which, unless you have the thighs of a little boy...). i don't want control top, shape-enhancing, butt-lifting technology, just label-free, soft-elastic, no-polyester everyday undies. why am i forced to choose between gaunch that sit low on my hips yet strangle my legs and something seamless that goes to the rib cage? i know it's a global recession, hanes, but did you lay off all your good ideas? and i'm sorry, but bamboo?

like i say, i can't believe i'm the only one making do with four-year-old rags. so if you have suggestions, gentle reader, bring 'em. until them, i'm going commando.