After two hours spent making a mostacholi [sp?] for this potluck at work tomorrow I plop down on the sofa to browse the net.  Why is it then that after 30 minutes, one of the lights in the kitchen turns itself on?  I'm thinking the ghost from last summer is back.  Probably migrates to warmer weather during the winters and returns in the hot summer days of Chicago.

There is probably a scientific logical explanation for why the light turned on by itself.  Maybe the switch wasn't completely shut, or there was some surge in electricity that made it turn on, or the light never really turned on and I just imagined it.  I'll stick to my ghost story though, it seems like the simplest explanation. 


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So my trip to Puerto Vallarta was a success.  I had some goals for the trip and I accomplished them, and probably others I'm not too proud of.   The best part I'd say was hanging out with the old buddies from college and even elementary school.  It probably rained ony 25% of the time and mostly at night, so it didn't ruin any sight seeing.  Aside from that, the wedding was absolutely beautiful, and exciting, and fun, and scenic.  The beach was literally 10 feet away fromour table, and the sunset occurred during the couples first dance. 

I've got a question:

Have you ever stayed up more than 24 hours?  What did you do?

If so, what were you generally doing.  The context of this question is more about a task-oriented event rather than social.  I've usually done did that to finished lab reports or other major projects that required all-nighters for completion.  The problem is that most of these all-nighters were avoidable with a better work ethic.  There may only be a few times that I've had to stay up more than 24 hours to get something productive done AND unavoidable.  Usually some type of mindless/labor intensive work like dry-walling, organizing documents, packing, and even driving. 


All-nighter, Taken from CultureJunkie

Tortilleria!  Tortilleria! How do I love thee?

Not only it's scent,
but the thought of freshly pressed maize,
slowly baked and heated.

Thoughts reminiscent of the old days,
of waiting in line like an amusement ride.
Sometimes just as long,
but always with a better scent through the air.

All the time eying the delicate yet speedy process.
Ordering by the kilo, rather than the dozen. 
Hulling back our evening supply in hand-stitched wraps.
 
I'd probably could write more, but my thoughts are incoherent as it has been over a week since I last had a fresh batch of maize tortillas.



[Random Google image search]  The lines were always over 30 minutes right before dinner time.