Slowly warming up...
Yikes. Tried driving the husband's diesel BMW this morning. Freaky!! It's like that horror car film, Christine. Usually when I shift to second gear, normal cars would just purr nicely. His refuses to limit itself into purring, it literally leaps forward with delight — as if to say, "Wheeeee!! I'm a flying manatee!" Scared me silly since I knew it could drive me to ruins (hey, I saw the movie). I just did an hour of turning around islands in the parking lot on first gear, no gas. Still not getting the hang of corners/curves. Blah. I can start any car like a pro though. Teehee. It's the rest that I'm having problems with.
Future anthology publication:
Just discovered that Benjamin Buchholz has put up a page featuring The Dust Girl. I was invited to send him around 10 poems for this anthology some months ago. Lots of exciting and familiar authors. No word yet if it did come through or not though. Here's to hoping it did or will.
A word about kefir:
Have gone on a kefir craze ever since I returned from Manila. My sis-in-law made me drink it (disgustingly weird stuff, like carbonated yoghurt) with the promise that it will clear up my skin. Since I've seen the results in my mom and one of the housemaids, I did. And yay, it really works.
Since kefir boosts one's immune system, it's also beneficial for people suffering from AIDS, chronic fatigue syndrome and cancer. I read somewhere that it also has a tranquilizing effect on the nervous system and helps alleviate sleep disorders, depression, and ADHD (attention deficit hyperactivity disorder).
So. I brought some fresh kefir all the way with me to Venice. Ironically, it arrived safely... but had a little accident in the car. Since kefir transport regulations (hee) require breathing space, I had to keep the bottle open. My darling husband swerved too fast into a street and it spilled! To put it mildly, we wanted to kill each other after 10 minutes of happy reunion.
We argued heatedly for days about who was the real kefir murderer. In my opinion, it's him and he needs remedial lessons in taking corners. In his opinion, I should be charged for double murder — my kefir, his car — and kept under observation in a mental institute because no one in their right mind would leave an open bottle of kefir unattended in a car. In the end, we agreed to disagree about it for the rest of our days and go on with our —erm— lives.
Anyway, I did manage to resuscitate a teaspoon of the kefir grains — so all was not lost.