I have a new kitchen. Pots, pans, etc. And recipe books. At last, I can cook again.
The Last Samurai made me sigh… and remember when I fell in love with bushido. A touch too much Cruise and not enough Watanabe for me. It was still good to see armies of samurai marching, fighting, and dying.
My folks are preparing to leave for Nawlins. I’ll have the place to myself for the weekend. I may take them up on their hospitality.
Saw Return of the King with my father. He wept. So did I. A long time ago in a galaxy far, far away, we shared a moment like this.
As I type, my father is watching a movie about Jesus while my mother watches one of those “We’ll do up your house in 48 hours” shows. In this small apartment, there is no escape from either. Nowhere to run, nowhere to hide. Not even my book can give me solace… the sounds creep under the doors and into my ears.
I’m looking forward to the New Year. I’ll be planning a party. It is the end of the Year of Hell, and I’ll be burying it deep.
I love my parents, but I miss my friends.