Despite the fact that the bulk of my hourly earnings fall on weekends, I still manage to find time for all sorts of random hijinks. Bits and pieces here, for those who like to read that sort of day-to-day stuff.

Saturday. I got myself up and going early enough for a trip downtown to conduct a few little business transactions. (In this case, "early" = 11am.)

From one of my boxes, I pulled out 5 old films that I never should have bought in the first place, and put them in the backpack. These were films that haven't been watched more than one time since they were purchased, and I'm unlikely to ever feel like watching again. Since I had listed them on peerflix for months with no takers, I decided it was time for another approach.

At the used movie store downtown, I asked the guy there how much he would give me for them. He examined each disc, divided them into piles, and assigned a dollar value "per movie" for each pile.

I thought about it for a moment, and decided to accept his offer. His numbers were reasonable, though not great. Maybe if I were the negotiating type, I could have bargained him up a bit, or taken them to another store later to see if I could get a slightly better offer, but frankly, I just wanted to have the load off my back with as little stress as possible.

Glad for having gotten that done, I took a trip down to Open Harvest for a few supplies. I decided to make bean dip for the potluck next Wednesday, though I'm going to make it extra mild, since whenever I make it normal, most of my friends and relatives who try it tell me they think it's "very spicy". Since we're going for an even more general audience at the potluck, best to be on the safe side. No habanero this time.

I bought the stuff I needed for bean dip, plus a few other yummy looking things. When I exclaimed at the unusual texture and size of the bulk spinach, "S", the guy who works in produce, told me that they got it from Shadowbrook farm this time, and my outburst had reminded him to put the sign up to advertise that fact. Big, rich, textured leaves. As I would soon discover, extra delicious as well.

I decided I had time to eat lunch there before heading back for work, so I also ordered a potato burrito. (Honestly, I do plan to try out some more of the other items on their menu someday, but the potato burrito is always so good that I find myself ordering it virtually every time I decide to eat in there!)

(And yes, since I am a member/shareholder of the Open Harvest cooperative corporation, such statements on my part should rightly be considered astroturfing. Beware the marketing wizards, for ye know not when, where, or how we will strike. Heeheehee.)

After ingesting the deliciously filling burrito, accompanied by the flavorful spinach, I journied home with the wind at my back.

Fortunately, by the time I arrived at work, the obnoxious football game was almost over. I've pretty much become resigned to it at this point. (Another nice thing to be noted about Open Harvest: They didn't blast their customers (or employees) with that at all while I was in there, which is more than I can say for a lot of other retail establishments in this town. Believe it or not, I've even heard the crap inside movie theatres before the film starts. It's sick, man, just sick. Any relief is welcome.)

Otherwise, it was a fairly entertaining evening to close the store, owing largely to the fact that so many customers came in wearing Halloween costumes. I think I probably made a damn fool of myself when a gaggle of giggly girls in their late teens wandered in donning some particularly revealing garb. Such are the woes of my existence.

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Sunday morning. I cooked up some of the cereal that one of the other Open Harvest devotees from the Jewel Heart group had managed to snag from the writeoff shelf and passed out to the group, and it was quite good. Cracked wheat, I believe. Very tasty. I might even get into the habit of buying it myself in the near future; it could be especially good on cold winter days.

Church today was a special hymn day. Pretty much the entire service consisted of hymns. A few songs were sung by the choir (those involving special skill, presentation, or practice), but most of it was by-request, and sung by the entire congregation.

In addition to the standard hymnal, today they also passed out copies of a stapled pamphlet containing photocopies of many traditional Christian hymns. The director explained that though many of us may not consider these old songs to be in accordance with our current faith, some do have memories of them from churches they grew up with, and so it can be a worthwhile experience to revisit them. So there we were, heartily singing "Onward Christian Soldiers" one moment, but minutes later, the lyrics to John Lennon's "Imagine" were being read from from the pulpit to close the service. How very surreal. I love it.

And finally...

A coworker wanted to leave at noon, and asked if I could come in earlier than usual. I had said yes, since church generally ends well before that time. I normally like to have a little extra time as padding (or to attend potential after-church classes), which is why my typical schedule (requested by me) doesn't have me arriving until 13:00. But today, I went to work an hour early, and used that as an excuse to leave 1.5 hours early so I could attend CUUPS.

Tonight's group ended up being very small indeed. At my first New Moon Circle, two people showed up, including me. No joke. Since neither of us had planned anything specific except to be there, I spent an hour and a half talking to this witch -- an older woman who spends much of her time taking care of her toddler grandson. (She said that normally, there are around 5 people who show up to this group; it's always much smaller than the Full Moon Circle.)

Naturally, a lot of our conversation focused on Neopagan practices and ideas (I became educated on several issues about which I had been largely ignorant), but we also strayed into history, politics, and our personal lives. Get-to-know-you type stuff for the philosophically inclined. I treaded a bit lightly into discussing a few of my more radical notions, and found that we actually had a lot of common ground. (I believe Jason Godesky once wrote that you don't just go into polite company and just start talking about the Crash. Wouldn't be prudent. Cue Dana Carvey.)

After that, I made a quick stop back at the Mideast Base, and then returned briefly to the gas station to drop off a couple of items for a coworker. This coworker, one of the more recent hires, is... well, maybe he's a nut. Even so, I cannot in good conscience refuse to lend a book to someone who has expressed a desire to read. Even if the last book I lent him was returned in a significantly degraded condition, accompanied by stories that stretch credibility about cops searching his car without reason, cause, or motive ("and oh by the way, they mussed up your book while they were rifling through everything"). I'm not saying I don't believe cops do stuff like that, it's just that this guy tells so many similarly wacky stories about insane (but plausible) things happening to him all the time, that I've simply given up trying to figure out whether they're true, part-true, greatly embellished versions of reality, or just a bunch of made-up nonsense. I just say, "Hmmm, that's pretty f--d up, man," without denying or confirming belief in the literal truth of his tales.

He said he enjoyed the Gaiman book more than he thought he would. So this time, when he said, "Bring me a book, any book, so I don't get bored," I looked around on my bookshelves, which admittedly (and intentionally) contain a lot less than they did a year ago, and decided to go with the crazy angle. Evasion. I suspect he'll either love it, go "what the fuck?", or maybe a little of both. (/me cackles with glee at the thought of spreading profoundly subversive anarchist propaganda amongst my fellow proletariat drones.) He and the author have at least one thing in common though: They both like to relate fairly outlandish stories about their roller coaster lives.

As opposed to my life, which more resembles a slow moving trolley car. That's ok though. I arrange it that way.

And now, having written pretty much everything I wanted to convey about the past two days, I think I'll kick it down a notch. Tomorrow: laundry, maybe bean dip (or maybe leave that for Tuesday), a 4-hour work shift, and perhaps some loafing about. Easy does it.