|Proud to be a 'Don before being a 'Don was cool.|
- Australia police free naked man stuck in washing machine
- Satanists plan for goat-headed deity at Oklahoma Capitol
It's really had to compete with naked Australians and satanists, to say nothing of goats.
Yet, compete we shall. I was assembling chicken noodle soup of the homemade variety, and although it's easy, it involves a little patience. First, waiting for the veg portion -- the carrots, the onions, the celery -- to soften up, then adding the noodles -- Amish type -- and waiting for them to cook just a bit beyond al dente.
[Editing in action: I wrote the paragraph above an hour or so ago. Sat down again and you see the edited version above. Here's the first draft:
Yet, compete we shall. I was making chicken noodle soup of the homemade variety, and although it's easy, it involves a little patience. First waiting for the veggie portion -- the carrots, the onions, the celery -- to soften up, and then putting the noodles in -- Amish variety -- and waiting for them to get just a bit beyond al dente.
If I waited another hour, it'd be better still.]
Anyway, it took awhile -- I kept checking the noodles and they were staying pretty dente -- one time, twice, three times -- and finally, you could see the change, the moment they ceased being crunchy/gummy and took on the softness perfect for soup.
Back in the day, IPFW was desperate and deluded enough to allow me to teach a class on free lance writing. My students were just as desperate (for what they perceived, I'm sure, as three easy credits), although not nearly as deluded -- I had no idea what I was doing, as they discovered, and I'll take this opportunity to apologize to every single one of them.
But just because my teaching skills were pretty weak doesn't mean I wasn't a good editor -- and that's what most of those students needed to become, their own good editors. So I often felt I wasn't teaching writing as much as I was (self) editing.
And what does an editor do? Cut out a lot of unnecessary words. [Strunkify it!] Let it sit awhile, so you can bring fresh eyes to it. You'll end up changing a few words, deleting a few, even adding one.
You know -- noodling around with it. Serving up prose, al dente.
Enough of this prosaic overload. I'd write a poem about the snow and cold but Wallace Stevens has beat me to it:
I just like it: Timeflies acoustic: I Choose You. No great meaning.