Overthunk

Being the latest is capital when you're on television or vinyl, but being befuddled and all a-muddled, so entrenched in a puddle of your own morning stupor that you go three miles east when half a mile west was the required span, And in east Dallas, down in the grove you drove and drove Turning and turning to find your way back to the hackensack street That you somehow went past in your lack of directional aptitude. Finally back on track, not intending to slack but time keeps on slippin', your lid is flippin' thinkin' of how an H street Can turn into a B avenue in your mind's eye and in your eye's mind, even though you checked it time and another time, thinking it fine. You can't turn left on the one way H so you make your way down to another rue name of C, now you really gotta pee but soldier on you must for in work we trust, even if only to pay the wage. Cursing advancing age, you go past the churches and carnicerias, old ladies and all the taquerias dow

Sure, you know and I know that astrology is dumb. I know that I am risking being labeled as a DBB* for even posting this. But I still go here and check compatibility with people I'm interested in, just for fun alright??? I'm not saying I run my life by it, or that I read the daily newspaper horoscopes (I think those are made up and shite, incidentally -- oh, the irony). It's just fun, kind of like people watching. Predicting what will and won't be true. So I'm nosy and interested in people's characteristics. It's not my fault really. My mom kept a stack of books of all sorts, but namely Linda Goodman's Sun Signs and a whole bunch of cheaper offshoots lying around. She read them, analyzed everyone we knew according to them, from my youth to my middle age, and passed her knowledge on to me. I studied with the diligence of an acolyte. As for my dad, not only had he listened to Pink Floyd's Dark Side of the Moon countless times and taken my sister an

Hello and welcome to our mostly affiliated with a holiday except this time recipe feature. Today's recipe is the creatively titled CHICKEN RICE-A-RONI DISH! It was one of the few surviving recipes that my mom made consistently over time. I have no idea where she got this recipe, but she did not make it in my childhood. She began making it in my teens I think. Before she passed away, I had started to collect her recipes as she made them. Traditional Southern staples such as fried chicken or roast (she never called it pot roast -- it was just roast) were all cooked from her culinary knowledge and never written down. Foolishly, I thought that there was a treasure trove of eating goodness in her rooster-emblazoned recipe box, but I never checked and discovered later to my deep chagrin that it was mostly full of stuff I'd never eaten. This one, though less significant, managed to survive -- rather like a pair of fossilized chopsticks found on a hunt for Ming vases -- useful, but no