Firstly, if you did not sign up for the gift exchange and would like to do so, check my previous post. Like usual, I was hungry for sushi last night. After a short inventory check, I realized I had everything I needed to make sweet potato tempura maki rolls. I thought, "Well, I'm going to be by myself tonight so maybe I'll just make two or three rolls. So somehow I made way too much sweet potato tempura. Z got back from work right as I was done tempura-ing (is that a verb?) the sweet potatoes and then Jenny T. called and I hadn't talked to her about Laini yet and she said she was sorry; that she has been through it; is still going through it, and that if I ever wanted to talk about it, to call her. We hung up and I just lost it. I am really feeling a huge emptiness sitting there, just knowing that she's not out there somewhere posting hot pictures of Jake Gyllenhaal or dressing Kylie up in a funny shirt, or making a list of songs that have hand claps in them. Even though it hits me every day, somehow I feel like the worst is yet to come. I am feeling really lonely, even though some of it is self-imposed because of being engrossed in craft projects. I ended up with 10 maki rolls. I don't know what happened. I had all this drive to do more crafting, but I couldn't stop making sushi! I made too much rice and way too many tempura sweet potatoes, so I just kept making rolls. Then I realized that there was no one around but me to eat them, so I texted everyone in the 'hood (and some not) asking them to come eat. Luckily Z brought his friend Dave home with him and they finished off a bunch of them, but I ended up stuffing myself since sushi is not good the day after, even a couple hours after it's made. Since I don't own any of his cds and just listen to Tom Waits when Z listens to him, I have a couple favorite songs. My boo has never told me that my favorite Tom Waits song is actually not called Waltzing Matilda, but rather Tom Traubert's Blues. I just looked up the lyrics because this guy who sings down in the Monroe blue line station just has the most gorgeous voice and he sang it last night. I may have mentioned it here, but he covered "I Will Follow You Into the Dark" about a month ago and I started weeping. His voice is so soulful and he's a great guitar player. He has a cd for sale for $5 and every time I have seen him (maybe 4 times now) I either have too few dollars or zero dollars. Tom Traubert's Blues (Tom Waits 1976) Wasted and wounded, it ain't what the moon did Got what I paid for now See ya tomorrow, hey Frank can I borrow A couple of bucks from you? To go waltzing Matilda, waltzing Matilda You'll go a waltzing Matilda with me I'm an innocent victim of a blinded alley And tired of all these soldiers here No one speaks English and everything's broken And my Stacys are soaking wet To go waltzing Matilda, waltzing Matilda You'll go a waltzing Matilda with me Now the dogs are barking and the taxi cab's parking A lot they can do for me I begged you to stab me, you tore my shirt open And I'm down on my knees tonight Old Bushmill's I staggered, you buried the dagger Your silhouette window light To go waltzing Matilda, waltzing Matilda You'll go a waltzing Matilda with me Now I lost my Saint Christopher now that I've kissed her And the one-armed bandit knows And the maverick Chinaman and the cold-blooded signs And the girls down by the strip-tease shows Go, waltzing Matilda, waltzing Matilda You'll go a waltzing Matilda with me No, I don't want your sympathy The fugitives say that the streets aren't for dreaming now Manslaughter dragnets and the ghosts that sell memories They want a piece of the action anyhow Go, waltzing Matilda, waltzing Matilda You'll go a waltzing Matilda with me And you can ask any sailor and the keys from the jailor And the old men in wheelchairs know That Matilda's the defendant, she killed about a hundred And she follows wherever you may go Waltzing Matilda, waltzing Matilda You'll go a waltzing Matilda with me And it's a battered old suitcase to a hotel someplace And a wound that will never heal No prima donna, the perfume is on An old shirt that is stained with blood and whiskey And goodnight to the street sweepers The night watchman flame keepers and goodnight to Matilda too