My aching ankle needed diversion of a humorous sort, especially because a dinner of leftovers (rib stew) was not exciting, and certainly not amusing in the least. Mindless entertainment was what it needed, because my ankle does not have a brain.

It appreciated Beauty Shop tremendously, because it did not have to search its brainlessness for deep meaning or allegorical imagery or metaphorical finesse.

At one time, this was posted at googleblog, but alas, it is there no more. But I found a reasonable facsimile - a recipe to contemplate, to mull over, and to fantasize about. It is along the lines of recipes that begin: ‘First, dig a pit,’ or ’secure 15 cauldrons’.

Also known as chicken a la the king. It is attributed to a man that Charlie Ayers, former chef at Google, knew.

My breading could be lots better. Not every surface is coated with a crunchy crispness. But I’m working on it.

Everything on the longevity diet mentioned earlier is in my kitchen except almonds. I don’t like almonds. The solution for me is almond butter.

Today, at Trader Joe’s, there were two kinds. The very expensive organic kind, and the ordinary, reasonably-priced kind, which I got. It is the old-fashioned stir variety, but that’s okay, I’m used to that. I will have my daily almond ration mashed into a banana.

I have reorganized my email boxes, leaving one for miscellaneous pitches. Lately, there have been lots of urgings from seed and bulb companies saying I must act now. Among the salad veggies I should be planting are the Bull’s Blood beet and the red meat radish.

The interviewer finds him more than a little unsettling.

But only when I’m behind the wheel. Time and again, I will call a family member, and unfailingly, as if by magic, it starts right up.

Last night, after a fill-up (2.92/gal.), it did not start for someone else. In the passenger seat, I could gloat a little, but at the same time we were stuck. However, being stuck at a gas station is not the worse thing that could happen.