I was thinking about what has happened in my life in the past three days that would suffice as any sense of legitimacy for you to read about it ... and be interested. And, to be honest, life outside of New York is slightly less enthralling. But I suppose that's part of the reason why I'm home. I mean, my current front yard is also synonymous with "beach", so I guess I can handle that. That's a pretty big difference from Delancey and Allen.
First things first ... I don't have to have sinoplasty! This = glorious news. I went to the ENT on Wednesday and my septum is only slightly deviated, meaning I could have sinoplasty to fix my sinuses but it isn't necessary (I like the "unnecessary" part). He did however say that he could saw off the calcium deposits I've acquired on the bridge of my nose, as well as straighten it out a bit. But y'all, that is rhinoplasty. Rhinoplasty is the fancy medical word for a true nose job. Friends, not happening. SO I'm having a procedure done next week that will help out my nose bleeds (I've got some trifling-ly large blood vessels hanging out). Yada. Yada. Yada.
SO, I'm learning how to cook. And I've got to tell you how big of a deal this is. Here is a comment to give you a bit of an idea; the first night I donned the apron I was asked via Graham Bell's fancy creation if I burnt down the kitchen (answer: no). Please note that I wasn't asked if I burnt the food, or if it was edible. He asked if I burnt the kitchen down. Get. It. Outta. Here. Anyways, I've cooked for myself, my mom, and my pops for the last four consecutive evenings, and no one's gotten sick from the following:
Evening #2: Fried Chicken, Homemade Mac and Cheese, Fresh Green Beans
Evening #3: Meatloaf, Raspberry Vinegar Pasta (it's full of yummy vegetables)
Evening #4: Baked Chicken (a whole one ... including gizzard pulling-outage), Mashed Potatoes, Corn on the Cob
I'm rackin' up for the reportoire.
Next cool thing on the agenda: IT'S SHAWN DECKER'S 34th Birthday!!! Okay, y'all who don't know him, I'm just going to apologize. Not because I'm writing about him and you don't know him. But because you don't know him. You don't have the rad-ness he exudes in your life. Even if it's just on the peripheral. Shawn was diagnosed with HIV when he was 11 years old, which means he's been living with this stupid disease for 2/3 of his life. Scratch that. He's been kicking AIDS in the face for 2/3 of his life. Last year I joined the New York AIDS Walk team with he and others that have an intense disdain for one of the lamest diseases ever ... we raised $58,000 or so and now we're taking our case to the nation's capitol. Why? Because of the alarming infection rate in DC. It's on par with Uganda's infection rate. NOT OKAY. So, in honor of Shawn I'm going to finally get my act together and join the Supersnack team so on October 3rd we can take it to AIDS.
Oh, and hey, if anyone wants to send me back to South Africa for a summer or four to help families with AIDS. Or orphans with AIDS. I'm not averse to the idea.