The Quest for the Perfect Sandwich Loaf

The Perfect Loaf, Mark I

Some of you may know that in addition to writing I also greatly enjoy spending some time in the kitchen.  In fact, my new daily routine is to wake up, hit the bathroom and then head into the kitchen to make something to eat.  Oh don't be like that!  I wash my hands first.  Whenever I make something potentially messy (such as baking bread) I always be sure to don my chef jacket.  Again, don't think I'm some master chef because I own a chef jacket.  I actually own two because they keep my T-shirts from getting all jacked up when I cook.  Initially my roommates thought my it was hilarious, but now when they see me buttoning it up they gather around in mild awe to speculate what I'm cooking.  I'm still waiting for someone to realize I have no idea what I'm doing most of the time...  Recently I was asked about my new sandwich bread recipe.  I still have some tweaking to do, but if you're looking for a loaf of fresh bread that can hold up as a sandwich (and for super cheap too) then this is a fine place to start.

Muse's Little Black Book

I recently moved and have been in the process of unpacking for a little bit now. By a little bit, I mean over a month. I figure why unpack it unless I need it, don't judge. Anyway, during this snail's-pace unpacking I came across a little black leather bound book that I have had for the longest time. Most guys keep phone numbers of ladies in their little black book, but me? Nah, too typical. So what does the Amused Muse keep in his sacred black book? Poetry my friend. Specifically mine. Ironically enough a slip of paper with a girl's number on it fell out of it when I picked it up... That's not here nor there though. So, to commemorate the 100th time I've found my book, I wanted to share a piece from it's hallowed pages. I hope you enjoy it, it's one of my favorites.

Pick, Slide, Hammer and Sway

Muse's Little Black Book

A Smile crossed her lips
As her fingers flicked,
'Cross the strings that were pulled down tight.
In a test of skill,
She'd be best still,
To that there'd be no fight.

At that moment in time
She felt just fine,
As she picked-slid-hammered and swayed.
The music ran far
From the electric guitar,
As she picked-slid-hammered and swayed.

With her eyelids down
Her passion was found,
And she played like a thunder roll.
With her knees apart
She played from the heart,
The music was taking it's toll.

My toes were tapping
And my hands were clapping,
If only the rest could see.
Her whole song
Was only seconds long,
But it seemed like years to me.

I watched her hands
As she plucked the strands,
And the music flowed from her soul.
At that moment in time
I felt just fine,
'Cuz that music had made me whole.

When the end drew near
I still longed to hear,
When she picked-slid-hammered and swayed.
So I guess I'll stay
Until that day,
When you'll pick-slide-hammer and sway.

Memories of Working on a Cruise Ship

Amy, The Card Shark

Recently I found myself watching my screensaver. What can I say, I live a thrilling life. My screensaver consists of photos that were taken on my brief career for Norwegian Cruise Lines America in Hawaii. Pretty much everyone I've shared this with has asked a bunch of questions, the first one usually being "That had to be a lot of fun." I know that's not a question, shut up and enjoy the story :). I typically reply with "It was pretty fun but it was a whole bunch of work too." It didn't really hit me, however, exactly how bizarrely fun it was until I sat there watching this slideshow I'd seen (literally) hundreds of times before. What struck me the most were the people. It seems like they were there and then-*POOF*-they were gone. Allow me to introduce you to some phantoms from my past that still feel like characters from a book to me sometimes.

Tales from the Bus: Jerry and Rockin' Joe

People. They really blow my mind sometimes.

This evening started like many others. A long pleasant walk to the bus top heading into work. It was at the point that I approached the all too familiar bench and I saw a man with a bushy beard and large pack full of stuff animatedly discussing the finer points of open container laws with another gentleman that I knew tonight was going to be special. Luckily I had my headphones in and could thus take a seat on a nearby curb without being drawn into the debate. The man who was debating with... we'll call him Joe, got up and went to the fast food place across the highway leaving just Joe and myself at the bus stop.