March 5: Peculiar Flavour, Potluck, Memoir Reaction

Ghost peddles Christmas crack

"Is there a peculiar flavour in what you sprinkle from your torch?" asked Scrooge.

"There is.  My own."

"Would it apply to any kind of dinner on this day?" asked Scrooge.

"To any kindly given.  To a poor one most."

"Why to a poor one most?" asked Scrooge.

"Because it needs it most."

The Ghost of Christmas Present spends a good deal of his stave sprinkling incense from his torch of holiday revellers.  A few drops of his magic "water," and happy meals become joyous, angry encounters become good-natured conversations, and lonely miners/sailors/lighthouse keepers become Christmas carollers.  The Spirit never really identifies what he's spreading around with his torch.  I've always thought of it as a mixture of the milk of human kindness and liquid Christmas spirit.  Whatever it is, if it were bottled, my guess is that it would sell better than crystal meth.

I have a lot of work to complete today, but, for some reason, I'm in a great mood.  While the tasks are going to be a little tedious, I'm not exactly dreading them.  I'm not looking forward to them.  However, I don't hear the procrastination imp in my mind whispering, "Yeah, but don't you have a poem you want to write?" or "Yeah, but don't you want to get a blueberry muffin from the coffee shop?" or "Yeah, but don't you want to read that novel over spring break?"  Nope, the imp is pretty silent.  It's almost as if the Ghost of Christmas Present has emptied his entire torch on me.  Or beaten the shit out of the imp.

Part of my good mood I can attribute to the fact that I was able to post my first installment of Project Memoir last night.  I wasn't sure about its quality at the time I clicked on the "Publish" icon.  This morning, however, after rereading it, I'm pretty happy with what I've written.  However, I would really appreciate feedback on it.  If you haven't read it yet, please check out the March 4 post and leave a comment.  My main question for you, my disciples, would be, "Would you read an entire book of this shit?"  Give me your honest reaction.  I can take it.  Then I will curl up into the fetal position and suck my thumb.

Tomorrow, we have a potluck at work.  My former coworker is returning to her job with me.  I will no longer be a business office of one, and I will be able to stop referring to her as my "former coworker."  In celebration of this occasion, we will be having a potluck.  I will be making my soon-to-be former former coworker one of her favorites:  a pan of brownies with good, thick frosting, topped with a layer of M&Ms.  Sprinkled with a lot of the Ghost's incense, as well, of course.

Saint Marty is determined to have a good day.  Bring on the torch.