image found here
There's a piece of me slowly sailing on a junk ship. You know, one of those over crowded mish-mashes of flotsam that traffic jam the water ways in many Asian countries. My soul tip-toed on one this morning and refuses to get off. Sails unfurled like paper fans, the breeze is caught and on we drift, in search of another life and, perhaps, dinner.
The mountains, don't they look like finger stubs, parts of hands? Long ago, giants must have resided here. After tiring of kicking up crust and creating Himalayas, they settled down beneath the waves, giving their work a hearty "two thumbs way up". Now we get to navigate them. Sometimes I swear I hear them laughing at me, this lanky American far from home.
The clacking of my keys is an imagined engine. At least, I'm pretty sure they have engines. Most are too large for a paddler or ten. Last I checked, Ben Hur wasn't stowed away underneath. Another clacking sound comes to mind. Chop sticks, those precarious little overgrown toothpicks that, once mastered, open doors to culinary experience (and one or two gasps of amazement when you're the only one at the table able to maneuver them around a Pu Pu Platter).
Speaking of food, I'm in the mood for dumplings. Boiled dumplings: Jiao Zi. Sure, I've made fried rice before. I've even folded a wanton or three in my day. But dumplings? Hmmm...this I've got to try. Interested?
The kitchen is open and I'm off to experiment. Good Lord willing and the river don't rise (or the giants return to play kick the junk boat), I'll have a platter of them all piping hot come tomorrow morning to share with you.
PS: Check this out: I figured out to attach my snazzy little Facebook profile link to my blog. How's that for technological prowess? Honestly, I'm impressed. I didn't shut down the Internet or anything!