Hummus, Cotton, and the Second Debate

I’m watching the debate.  I’m eating garlic hummus.  I’m thinking about where my Sublime cotton yarn with the low-impact dyes could be.  If Tom Brokaw appeared in the room and told me to prioritize my evening activities, it would start with selectively tuning out McCain.  I don’t need a large television set, or one with the latest picture technology.  I just want to tune out McCain.  Oh my gosh, he just said “have the smartest people in America come together”, as though he really values intelligence and would listen to them. 

 

The Sublime yarn is the second priority.  I want to do some children’s things, hats and sweaters, with that yarn.  I’ll take a brief color break from the bright, saturated colours of the Merino Brights, and handle a very soft yarn with colors that are pale and muted. 

 

Garlic hummus is still in the lineup, but since I’ve been eating as I listen and type, it’s going to be a nonissue shortly.  What’s not a nonissue is my eating, in general.  I can tell that my prednisone dose is down.  This morning I woke and knitted for two hours before I was hungry enough to have breakfast.  I have no desire to snack or nibble between meals.  My plate is never full to the brim, and I sometimes can’t finish the food on it.  I haven’t been waking at night feeling ravenous and making treks to the kitchen to explore the snacking options.  My taste for certain foods has increased (vegetables, primarily) and my desire to have meat is gone.  I truly despise the state that high-dose prednisone imposes on me.  I hope I can extend this wonderful hiatus indefinitely. 

 

McCain is interesting to watch without the sound.  It makes me notice things like his expression.  He is tight-faced, like a cranky senior citizen.  His expression says “my hemorrhoids hurt”.  Obama’s body language is easy, relaxed.  He moves like an athlete.  The audience is very quiet, sitting stiffly in their chairs.  Only a few of the questioners seem comfortable reading their questions into the mike.  Perhaps they should have hired pinch-readers. 

 

I am comfortable enough with the repetitious nature of this debate that I can leave the room.  Time to go find my yarn and cast on something fresh.

 

Peace.

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