Cleaning Up

Coming into town, various roads closed, had to come around the long way. The big river at 47 plus feet, full flood is at 50 feet, supposed to hit that Thursday morning. Drove down on Second Street on top of the floodwall in places. Impressive amount of water. Rain starting again tonight, then the next couple of days falling steady. Checked the Advanced Hydrologic Prediction Service, a great site, and we should be fine, nor should D's house flood, but it's a close thing. Interesting hydrological event at the confluence. The Ohio is too high and fast, and the Scioto backs up against it, the floodplain is a huge inland sea. Serious happenings. I need cash so I go to the branch bank across the street and there's a zaftig young teller, with so much cleavage I forgot to speak. Zaftig's a cool word. From the Middle High German, meaning 'juice', probably from ripe fruit being pregnant with nectar. Read a food essay, recently, that used the word nape, which I use in the context of that sheet of water going over a dam or spillway, but an embedded recipe in the essay, used it in terms of that coating on the back of a spoon that carries much information at certain times, doing certain things. Making jelly, making gravy, checking the viscosity of a great many things. Nice use of the word. Should have gone home, but met Anthony for a Murphy's, and I had a shot of Irish to sip, then an old friend, Janice, and her husband bought me a shot, then I stopped to chat with the chairman of our board. Not wanting to chance a DUI. This whole St. Patrick's Day thing is way out of control at the pub. I'm going to help Barb cook breakfast (bangers and rashers and eggs and bread) before the parade on the 12th, maybe watch Pegi's girls dance a jig, the rest of the time, before the day itself, I'll try to spend on the ridge. I don't suffer crowds well. The kegs of Guinness lining the walls. They have a count-down clock. I suspect there will be people in green hats. Not to rain on their celebration, but I'd rather be alone. Most of the time. I enjoy the hours I spend with D, look forward to every minute I might spend with Anthony, but there's too much information, and we really need time to process. I attend seminars, occasionally, under false identity, to see what the other side is doing. A terrible spy, I mostly talk about the finger-food, but it's interesting, posing as a Republican. Sometimes you have to bite your tongue to spite your face. Think about that. For a few minutes, let your imagination wander. I do this on a regular basis, and I'm not sure it's a good idea. To imagine light and warmth, hot-running water, at the end of the tunnel. What would you chose? Or which? My little hands are clean, I didn't do anything; stack a few tables, rack some chairs. I'm sure we have some of these words wrong. Listen. Fucking Frogs Are Fucking Again, I can't believe it. You and me, the surface conditions that existed, what they called gravel we called diamond in the rough. Just saying.