The Year of Our Discomfort

This weblog just turned one, and in retrospect it's very aptly named. Discomfort has been the watchword for the last year of my life, first in gaining a business, panicking about it, then burying it, and then in looking for a new job and Dad's all-over-the-map health. Things have been up now and then, but it feels to me like they've been mostly down. I'm not as strong as I used to be, that or I'm more aware of (and therefore worrying about) the pressures that surround me. The Farmer's Market starts this weekend, that'll hopefully be a major boon to my tortured spirit. It'll be good to hear Jim Keezer's Market Band blowing out the cobwebs with "Tiger Rag" again.

Was there a point to all this maudlin nonsense? Not really. I'm killing some time before my Italian cooking class starts, and trying to decide what value this piece of electronic fluff has for me. I read Thom's because it's a way to keep up with him and because he occasionally writes and/or links to some really interesting stuff. Mine seems to be self-consored ranting and very occasional updates on my life. I have no idea who reads this thing, but I guess if they want (or at least don't mind) self-censored ranting and occasional updates, then who am I to deny them?

As a side note - If I ever take up religion again, I've found the one to join: The Church of the Flying Spaghetti Monster Originally begun as a piece of absurdism to sway a Kansas school board away from mandating Intelligent Design in science class, it seems to have since become an excuse for people all over the country to dress like pirates, wave really bizarre signs, and use the words "noodly appendage" in actual sentences. In short, it looks like great fun and seems to be rather harmless. My only point of contention with their doctrine as far as I can see is their view of the afterlife. In the Pastafarian (yes, that's intentional) heaven, there are beer volcanos and a stripper factory. Since I really don't have a use for a beer volcano or a stripper factory, I wonder exactly where this would leave me in terms of eternity. Also, I find myself wondering what exactly the factory uses for raw materials, and what would happen if the supply ever exceeded the demand. Also, is there a production line for male strippers, or is it a misogynistic afterlife?

At any rate, given that I'm cooking Italian tonight, it's gonna be REAL hard not to crack FSM jokes in class...