headhunting

1012 = ?!

steganography. the art of conveying hidden messages such that only the intended recipient understands the meaning and existence of the message.


i was recently the recipient of such a message. the other night when i uncorked a bottle of wine, i found that the cork conveyed a message - 1012. of course, many of you are probably thinking that this is just a date stamp or a factory code, but that is because you were not the intended recipient of this message (nannynannybooboo). i am absolutely certain that this message was meant for me, and that i am the wine company's link to the outside. i am to convey this message, translated, to the people of the world.

for all you readers out there that have no idea what 1012 means, it is the position in the hepatitis delta virus (HDV) genome that is edited by human ADAR1. the heart of my thesis research beats around this site, 1012! and there is a wine company out there that knows this.

but what message is this wine company trying to convey to me? is there HDV replicating in the wine they produce? is this wine meant to be imbibed only by people that have HDV replicating in their liver - maybe as a therapeutic?
i can't even begin to guess. but i am sure that this message was meant for me, and that this is the first of many messages to come. i will continue to buy wine from this company. i will buy it and i will continue to translate their communications. one soused day soon, i will be privy to the ingenious of this wine company.

and my dear readers, you will be the second to know their musings!

zen in the art of chocolate chip-cashew-coconut cookie eating

I pile two, three, sometimes up to five cookies onto a sparsely patterned white paper towel that drapes delicately atop a corner-set triangular kitchen table. I pour a generous volume of ice-cold milk into a clear glass. Immediately, dewdrops perspire on the periphery of the glass, as warm summer air spills through an open window.

I sit down.

The walls in front of me are blank. The air behind and around me is still. My ears are at rest.

My fingertips are the first to experience the jumble of chocolate, cashew, and coconut in front of me. Titilated by the many textures - soft, rigid, coarse - my hand gladly shuttles a cookie to my mouth. A cashew collides with my bottom lip. Slightly salty. More slightly sweet. I bite, and I chew - slowly. Eyes closed. Mind open.

The homogenous medley of brown sugar, cinnamon, and molasses ricochet off of one another. Reverberated by the crunch of a cashew. Intensified by sweet toasted coconut. Made ethereal by dark velvety chocolate.

I'm at peace.

........................

zen. it is the art of being present. of having the mind focused on what it is actively doing... at peace with what is happening right now! it is not eating cookies while cleaning the stove. it is not eating while painting. and it is not eating cookies while writing a blog. ...shit.

i was in the zen of cookie eating at least once in my life... and i do recommend it!

lauging to myself

a few evenings ago i thought about starting a whole new blog that would feature photos of obscure juxtapositions, bizarre ironies, and mocking hyperboles. i would call this blog, 'laughing to myself', since i often find myself smirking, smiling, or outright snickering when i encounter such situational comedies. the specific incidence that sparked this idea occurred while concomitantly stir frying leftovers and cleaning out my freezer.
i like to freeze to preserve many things. this ensures that, if a time came when i would like to enjoy that thing again, it would merely need to be thawed and boom -it would be back as good as new...hopefully. among the things i like to freeze are chocolate and goldfish. jan, the goldfish in the photo above, was flash frozen about two months ago. he was one of my favorite fish - he swam with enthusiasm, ate the vegetables that i couldnt bear to face, and never ever had a string of dangling poo. so i decided that instead of leaving him to be eaten by the angry cichlids in the tank, i would preserve him for a time when no other fish in his swimming proximity were on the attack.
unfortunately, however, when i took him out of the freezer to defrost and to bounce back to normalcy, he thawed as planned but did not regain the spunk i once admired from him. i shed a tear...and a sob, then put on my recall cap. (thinking back, i should have slowly coaxed his cells into hibernation by feeding him a 10% glycerol solution instead of throwing him straight into the freezer and straight into a state of shock). next time i will plan more carefully.
fortunately for me, but not for jan, i was able to find humor in the situation. call it morbid. call it callous. but i found myself smiling when i positioned my favorite goldfish on a plate next to my stir fry ingredients.
although i have decided not to devote an entire blog to internal laughter, i thought it was warranted to devote at least one entry to the topic. do you ever laugh to yourself? what situations cause your cavernous cackles? hopefully your encounters aren't quite as sinister as the example i just purported.
tactfully, i've decided to thaw the chocolate next time i'm cleaning my freezer.