Perfect

A dark and rainy night. The frogs wake me just at midnight. The puddles are awash in slimy slithering amphibians. It's one of those events, that, when you finally notice it, makes you wonder if you ever paid attention to anything. It's the noise that alerts you, it really does sound like a flock of ducks had taken over the airways. They are all you can hear. I told Glenn tonight, that I could now predict, within 48 hours, with 48 hours notice, when this singular event would happen:

A hooded figure, our hero in rain-gear, goes out with a flashlight late at night. He has a foam pad he uses as a prayer rug. He walks, slowly, to a vantage, just above the puddles in the driveway. He is almost completely quiet, he motions for his dog to heel. There's an interlude here, as there always is in nature, until the natural sound is restored, like when you disturb birds singing. If you sit very still, it all comes back, slowly, at first, then in a rush. We should be clear here. The sound-scape is the most important thing. As our hooded figure settles into the background, we start to hear things. Pull back, we have the sound of frogs fucking and a visual that doesn't make any sense. An old guy reading something that might be related. The Bach Cello Suites. Fade to black.

Easy day at the museum, by design, as two very hectic days upcoming. Big music and Soul Food evening, 125 people @ $15 a pop. All the tables, plus some borrowed, all the chairs; set-up tomorrow, dress and food on Friday. Clean-up on Saturday AND switch out the smallest gallery. Warm and rainy forecast, no fire tonight. The frogs are still going at it, but at a slower pace. Should be able to drive in as soon as this round of rains end, which might be the beginning of next week. Need to carry in some things. I'm a little tired and tired of winter, wore out, as my Mom would say. The broken toe was a test of mettle. Couple more weeks taking it a little easy and I can get back to the master list, which is all about making life a bit easier for next winter. I can throw a few dollars at it, too, now that child-support is ended. Mostly what I need to do is read and write less, in the short term, so I can do them more in the long term. But there's the whole habitual thing to overcome. Because I didn't have any money to do the things that needed to be done, I fell into an increasing habit of reading and writing. It's cheap, it fills time, I derive personal enjoyment; it's not a blood-sport, no one is hurt (ok, the occasional finger or toe), and I don't kill nearly as many things as I used to. I buy some meat now, and it always strikes me as strange, that I don't know where that animal lived and what it had been eating.