Saturday, September 24, 2011.
Low-Carb Overeating. Voices From The Past.
Yesterday, en route to the radio station, the guy in the car next to me flagged me down. "Your tire's going flat!" he said. I though I'd felt a strange little wobble on the Carrollton Overpass. In the parking garage, it did look a little low. I pumped it up with a can of flat-fixing stuff, which I've found to be miraculously effective over the years. It got me home this time, anyway.
I brought it to the Goodyear guys--the same ones who have lately performed about $1500 worth of work on my old PT Cruiser. I didn't want to hear that I need a new tire. They just sold me two less than a month ago, and I've bought five so far this year.
In the meantime, Mary Ann and I went to breakfast at Mattina Bella. Busy. The only available table was outside. Mary Ann loves that, but she has breakfast just to be nice to me. And I hate Al Fresco. But it was a cool morning, so why not?
She ate pancakes again. What seemed best to me was the low-carb breakfast: soft-scrambled eggs (with a little cheddar and green onions), four slices of bacon (finally satisfying the lack of bacon at last Saturday's breakfast at the Courtyard), and Susan Spicer's Wild Flour multi-grain toast (second time I've encountered that terrific bread this week, from different sources).
John at Goodyear said there was nothing wrong with the tire, but changed the valve stem for good measure. No charge. Thank you!
Radio show from noon until two. During that and all evening as I worked on the usual weekend miscellany, I began recording the hundreds of cassette tapes I have in my collection to mp3 files. Who would have thought, ten years ago, that the cassette would be nearly extinct now? That multi-purpose antique reproduction radio my gang bought me for Christmas is finally coming in handy. It's the only usable cassette machine I have left.
Most of my cassettes are recordings of old radio shows, mine and others. The oldest was made in 1970. It was falling apart and I had to rebuild it--not an easy thing to do with the thin cassette tape. The sound of my voice at age nineteen (when I was already determined to be a radio guy) is horribly embarrassing. But by 1972, when I first started real broadcast announcing, the tapes sounded far better.
An unexpected find among the cassettes was a bunch of my phone answering machine messages--outgoing as well as incoming. The first one on the tape, from 1976, was my mother. Also there was a number of messages from wine guy Paul Labruyere, who had a unique sense of humor.
It's over three years since a day was missed in the Dining Diary. To browse through all of the entries since 2008, go here.
