Illumination.

Dear reader,

I keep seeing an advertisement for a "Battery Powered Candle." Well, wouldn't the correct term be "Lamp"? Didn't Mr. Edison invent a similar device many years ago? The advertisement is trying to make me excited over these new-fangled "Battery Powered Candles." But, I just can't rustle up enough excitement. Forgive me.

Again...

Again I have nothing to say. My mind is blank. Or rather, it is full. Full to the brim. Want to know about Agatestone's current life: work and more work, reading for Yoga Teacher Training (yes, I'm becoming a yoga teacher), reading for Hebrew class (yes, I'm taking a Hebrew class), ushering at temple, ushering at the DIA (please, for the love of Allah, keep your hands off the artwork. Why oh why do people think touching works of art is acceptable?), watching as much Hugh Laurie as I can find on youtube, and trying to squeeze in a social life but frequently double and triple booking (my calendar is my constant companion.)

A dear friend of mine asked me, "When does Agatestone have time to be Agatestone?" The answer is quite clear - I have no time to be Agatestone. After December 29, I will be done with Hebrew and after March 23, I will be finished with Yoga Teacher Training. After my classes are over, I think I will have a full enough life just youtubing Hugh Laurie and ushering at my two ushering jobs (oh, and please stop chewing gum, running, and acting like you're at the mall, when in actuality, you're in a fine art museum.)

Tea anyone?

Granted, I am not British. But, I have one question: Who meets for a tea at 8:30 at night? That's like having a bruncheon at 4:00 p.m, or eating omelets at midnight. It's just kooky. When I say "meets for a tea," I don't mean meeting for tea, like calling up the Amnesiac Concert Flautist and saying, "Hey ACF, let's meet for a cup of tea at Starbucks at 8:30 tonight." I mean actually having a tea party, with sweets and cakes and well, tea. Of course, there is no law against having a bruncheon in the afternoon, omelets at midnight or a tea party at 8:30. I guess I should try to be more openminded about time-displaced meals. I'll work on it. I'm sure the ladies who attended this evening tea party had a charming time. If not, at least they had cupcakes.

Odd conversation

You haven't lived until you've heard an Orthodox rabbi leave the modest topics one would expect an Orthodox rabbi to speak of and then veer off into a discussion on necrophilia and stealing clothes from dead guys. Granted, he "confessed" that he thought necrophilia was the act of stealing clothes from dead guys, but I can't say that I'm completely convinced.

I'm still cringing.

Finally.

I've been wanting a new mobile telephone. I found the one I wanted, the one I needed, the one I longed for, a while back, but it was much too expensive. Happily, today, they began offering a ginormous rebate. My phone is now bought. It will arrive in a couple days, I will activate it with my new carrier and all will be well with the world. Now if I could only get you to call me on each of your telephonic lines so I could capture your phone numbers instead of having to thumb them all in. You go first, Breakfast Czar! You've got the most phone numbers of anyone I know! Just call me from each of them! I'll let you know when my magical phone comes in.

Oh, by the way, I am no Pollyanna. I realize that the reason for the huge price drop is that a new model is arriving. That's ok. This is the one I want, even though it only has November 2007 technology. I think the next model makes tea and separates laundry. It may frost cupcakes as well. I'm not sure. Cupcake frosting technology may not arrive until February.

...And I'm a little bit rock and roll.

Dear Reader,

I need to share with you my latest dream before it flits away into the ether.

Our scene begins on a beach. A giant green turtle is ambling along, ignoring the beachgoers who are splashing and tanning around him. I get closer to the turtle and I realize it is my friend Donny Osmond, dressed in a turtle suit. Donny sees me, squeezes out of his shell, takes off a kind of green leotard that covers his entire body, including his head and his feet, and explains to me that he wants to live his life out as a turtle. He turns and begins to trudge down the beach, hauling his turtle suit, planning to a find a new spot where he can live life anonymously as a turtle.

The end.

Questions:

Why Donny Osmond?
Why a turtle?

Obviously, Donny has been in the press lately. But not turtles. This is quite confounding.