I am not happy with these blocks on WordPress. When you type things up in a draft now it wants to make everything into blocks. A block of text. An image block. Another block of text. When you finish writing a paragraph it assumes that you have merely finished another “block.” You should divide everything into blocks. If you don’t do this you’re a fool. Nothing is allowed to flow together, and the blurring of the lines between blocks would be folly. WordPress is designed more and more for people who are barely literate. Can barely write but still want to have a blog? We have the platform for you.
I had coffee this morning. Maybe that’s why I’m a bit aggressive.
Speaking of coffee, or rather not speaking of coffee at all but kombucha, I had a kombucha this morning at the PCC on Aurora and 80th. The kombucha in question was one of a brand called Shen Zen, a company out of Seattle I’m convinvced participates in no kind of FDA or food regulation. I say this because kombucha, in order to be non-alcoholic, is supposed to have trace amounts of alocohol, or 0.5% or less. This would not only make it non-alcoholic, it would also make it OK for me to drink, since I am no longer an alcoholic. Not that I ever necessarily was. But in any case, I haven’t consumed alcohol in over a year, though I do permit myself the wanton liberty of consuming kombucha, especially since it’s the supposed “drink of immortality.” But ANYWAY, the point I’m trying to make is that this Shen Zen brand, or at least one of the teas in the Shen Zen brand, the “Champagne” variety, tastes like it’s nothing but alcohol. I find it hard to believe it contains less than 0.5%. Hell, I find it hard to believe it contains less than 5%. That said, I don’t feel at all buzzed right now, and if it indeed did have a high alcohol content I probably would feel buzzed since because I haven’t drunk alcohol for over a year I probably have the liver and/or tolerance of a ruby-throated hummingbird.
In other news, I’m probably not going to San Diego tomorrow. Sometimes you just wake up and think, “I’m not going to San Diego tomorrow.” And that’s how I felt when I woke up today. I can’t get myself to buy the ticket. It’s less than $300 roundtrip for a flight leaving tomorrow from SEA, and yet I still can’t get myself to buy the ticket. California. Fun in the sun. But on a deep, visceral level my body must want to stay up here in the north where the air smells like salt and the water is cold. That was part of my whole reason for going to San Diego, to buy a surfboard. The selection up here in WA is poor. But now it looks like I’m probably not going. Unless I get in my car tomorrow and drive south, south, and still further south.
Which is a distinct possibility.
I take a deep breath and I sit up straight on the stool I’m sitting on. Actually, my back was already pretty straight. And my breathing was already pretty deep. My resting heart rate, I’m pleased to note, when I haven’t had caffeine, and usually in the morning when I haven’t done any kind of exercise, aka when I’ve more or less rolled out of bed and into some kind of environment where the taking of vitals is appropriate, is often in the 40’s. One time it was as low as 45 or 44, prompting the nurse or phlebotomist who was taking the vital signs to raise a few eyebrow follicles, and possibly the skin housing these follicles (mother of god, I’m trying to say she raised her damn eyebrow. Jesus. Sorry).
It’s now time to take my sister’s dog on a walk. She’s been patient as I’ve sat here typing on the computer.
We’re going to walk far.