I think I’m becoming worse at making gravy as I get older. It used to be a skill I innately possessed. No longer. Now it’s always either lumpy or runny. Last night, it was lumpy and runny.
But we did have peas, which are among my favorite vegetables.
I’m thinking of getting a vegetarian cook book. Not because we want to become vegetarians, obviously, but because we’d really like to eat substantially more vegetables and it seems like that’s going to require incorporating them into more than just the way we’ve been flopping them on our plates next to the meat. We need to regularly move vegetables to the center of the plate, so to speak.
My parents are in Michigan at the funeral of the husband of one of my dad’s favorite cousins. I want to call them every five minutes and check on them. But I don’t, because I know they’re fine and there’s nothing I can do to comfort them anyway.
We were watching the Justice League last night and, in the episodes we’re in, Luthor is a quasi-good guy. He’s got to wear this vest which prevents him from dying of green Kryptonite cancer, I guess because why not rip off Iron Man? Anyway, he admits last night to a somewhat evil robot that he’s having to come to terms with the fact that, in a couple of generations, no one will know him.
Which is true for most ordinary people.
But it’s not true for Lex Luthor, who has managed to remain known. It makes me wonder if that’s not part of the importance of myths. Something that can be remembered for multiple generations.