Silence! ... *Cough*

I've been sick. This is primarily supposed to be a journal of my activities in and around the house. So, when activities grind down to the barest nub of sleeping, coughing, and staring at the ceiling, then not so much is worthy. On the bright side, I recently felt a strong and jolly tingle of nostalgia when I ladled into my mouth the first tablespoons of cough syrup I'd had in decades. Cherry flavored cough syrup is childhood, boiled down to a thick ooze. Of course, now that I'm choosing for myself, I prefer the herbal sort: co-op bought, and non-drunkinatin'. (On that tip, being an adult, I do possess the genuine. It's up on the shelf, it's brown, not cherry-colored... in a large glass bottle... not a small plastic one... made in Kentucky.)

Look What Mia Hath Wrought

"It Is Hardwood To Meditate Every Day"

Lunch...with some ingredients from Mary

I got out my day-old sourdough loaf.

Cut two slices. Carefully folded salami pieces and layered them across one slice, like sardines. On the other, I put little slabs of cheese, chopped sun-dried tomato, fresh tyme and dried rosemary, salt, pepper. Lifted top and bottom, and slathered all four sides with rendered duck fat. Heated cast iron pan, and browned on both sides, covered, over medium-high heat.

Meanwhile, steamed green beans. Then poured wine.

Sipped on it.

Once sandwich was crispy and melted, removed it from pan and replaced it with the steamed beans. Added some olive oil to the traces of duck fat in the pan; also tossed in leaves of sage from the box-garden on the railing just outside my kitchen door. Cooked green beans in the fats and sage just long enough to faintly crisp and richly season them.

Added to the sandwich and beans on the plate a handful of mixed nuts.

Added ice to another tall glass, and two squirts of lime juice, then water, and sugar, and stirred it up.

Removed all food and drink to my back deck.

Conjured up sunshine, and warmth. Called stepmother to wish a happy mother's holiday; and a happy birth day to my father, a day early, accidentally.

Listened closely. The backyard hums and hollers. Then, fit and feeling no pain, I played a whole lot of croquet. It's a nice course I have set up now, though it's probably best for the one-person play I've so far used it for. Once I invite challengers, we may find it to be awkwardly set up, and incur too much croquet-ing of each other. We'll see. (I wonder what I'll serve?)

Instead

Siding, With My Yard.

Purple Basil in moist soil in a raised bed in the side yard; also other basilses, and cilantro, and sage. Also, weeds. You can see the lengths of lawn, many cubic yards, in the middle distance. Nice siding, to the left. In other photos taken with this one you can wonder, "what was he thinking?," about the way I planted-in these wee ones. It doesn't look like it here, but they are bunched up and other rules were broken, too. But they'll do well.

It is enjoyable and attractive to tear up a few basil leaves when the heat of the food will send the warm odor wafting freshly up. (Can we make a basil mojito?) So I also have a garden-box on the railing outside my kitchen door. As ever, I get what I put in with my gardens, and both sides of that equation are worthwhile and should be made larger.

I want to side with my garden more when I maneuver to do my days.

despite/defiance

It's late and the refrigerator is keeping me company, clearly audible over my pop music.

It's a blog about life in this house. See, I do hope to keep a reasonable and public diary in defiance of my longstanding tendency towards a rather more weird and private one. As such, focus starts with the foundation, and moves to the details.

Been meaning to get over to Clyde's house to ask him for a favor - for him to mow my lawn with his riding deal. Knowing myself, what with recently getting home all relaxed from a month's vacation in Thailand, who knows how long the yards will go uncut? The front yard, both sides and back were all overgrown... until today, that is, when Clyde drove up all on his own and mowed the back yard. From his perspective as kindly neighbor, weren't hard to see it called out for a cutting. He came to my aid. There's still a lot for me to do. I usually have trouble getting the pull-start to work on my push-mower.

Rain. Plantings. Purple Basil, lettuce Basil. Cinnamon Basil. Marseille. Happy tiny basils.

There is the outside, and then inside is something else. Sky is not house. Being warm inside, stretching, being on the couch. Looking around the room, walls need painting, and I daydream about colors. The warm, current feeling is that househould jobs will, get done in defiance of my longstanding tendencies. Despite inside, outside yet gets to be somethin' else.

Curtain Up

This utensil reflects the life I've made with that of which I am made.


I am going to bend this spoon with my mind, right before your eyes.