Because it's sunday

A day that begins with 'chicken-noodle soup is sure to be a good one. I slurped in soup and the Herald and giggled lustily at Micallef's comments on manhood. I raked the front yard, side yard and front strip because it occurred to me my my noisy late-night crunching might annoy the neighbour. I made a large batch of chilli-rice which I will have for breakfast every freaking day and not be bored. I hopped in the car with Mr and went to see Indiana Jones. Awesomely average film but something about that John Williams theme always makes me grin and clap my hands in front of me like a 5-year old. I am the kind of person that would go to see 'Indiana Jones and the difficult laundromat'.
I planted Jerusalem artichokes by the dozen under the back porch. According to gardening lore, this means I will have hundreds of the things by next autumn. 's OK, I like prolific things in my garden. Apparently if you microwave them before you roast them the inulin breaks down and you don't fart as much. I will try this. I will also have celery-seed tea with my roasted Jerusalem artichokes just in case,-maybe throw in a few fennel seeds for good measure.
I wrote an article for the Vegan Voice and submitted it on a whim. In it I was lyrical about rainbow chard and reduced carbon footprints. Heady stuff.
I am trying not to be angry at my brother, and it is working intermittently. He is a very charming bastard. I could have done the gig standing on my head,-no, in my sleep,-no dead, but No. It is an unforgiveable sin to hire ones family members for anything. People will know. Not only that, but legend has it that immediately contracts are signed you will automatically lose all of your own talents, grow three horns and purple nose hair and develop a penchant for wearing uncured animal skins. This is only the beginning of the horror that awaits when you hire a family member for a professional engagement.
Of course, it is probable that I just don't understand and that the professional music industry is a mystical place that only the chosen can negotiate. It is also probable that I'm just over-reacting like a typical female. Three words; Shoe, Foot, Other...?