No one drove into the lagoon.

I'm listening to (but not watching) Chris Pusateri read ("If Martians exist, then so do presidents," he just said) over at the Continental Review. I'm learning to enjoy all of this recorded poetry--just please, If you ever have a party, and I ever come, please don't play poetry on your stereo or whatever slick or crappy sound system you have (and also, don't play any avant garde jazz). I love poetry and avant garde jazz, but if you play either at a party, well, it's about the same thing as just telling your partygoers to go away and party somewhere else. Now I know that some of you "partygoers" would rather party alone, and that's ok with me--just stay away from my parties.

Anyway. Thank you Continental Review. I like to listen to poetry. Alone. When I'm not at a party.

The Chargers didn't win. No one drove into the lagoon.

I made pizza for dinner. The last time I made pizza, I forgot that I actually own a rolling pin, so rolling out the crust was difficult--the resulting pizza was tasty, but the crust was uneven and doughy in places. Tonight, I remembered that I own a rolling pin, so I rolled out the dough--the pizza crust was even, slightly crunchy, and uniformly cooked.

I have complicated feelings about most PBS adaptations of Jane Austen novels (and complicated feelings about the novels (marriage, wealthy, wealthy men)), but I am going to watch the PBS adaptation of Northanger Abbey this evening.