dinner and daisies

An overcast day with some sliced and peeled cucumber makes everything green-tinted and clean-smelling. I went a little vegetable-crazy at the store on the way home, and so I am finishing up a huge bowl of salad: romaine and spinach and cucumber and tomato and red onion and a chunk of tuna. I feel so cozy and satisfied now, as the evening falls over everything, emptying out my brain from the day's work with episodes of "Pushing Daisies" on blu-ray.

There's stems of asparagus standing up in glasses in the fridge, the work of just a minute of snapping the purple rubber bands holding the bunch together, washing 'em, snipping off their woody ends, slipping them neatly like an alien bouquet into one heavy yellow-green glass, and a pretty indigo blue one, and now they're resting in the fridge to keep fresh and green and crisp until I roast them tomorrow.

Work goes well - in many ways, it's like I never left, and I am glad to see the cooler weather up close and personal this time around, instead of in small weekend doses during my California commute.