Down The Creek

Forced to go around the long way because of the paving on RT 125, but it is a lovely drive. Will add a gallon a day to my fuel requirements and I probably won't go that way every day, as the added time on the commute is about the same as the wait to do the single lane thing on my regular route. Mostly just wanted to see how spring was progressing along the creek. Lovely, of course, gurgling brook and all that, the miniature waterfalls where sandstone or slate has been displaced, the trillium, the blackberry in bloom, the serious gardening underway. Evidence that the road has flooded, and the sawdust piles where fallen trees had blocked the road. D at the museum today and we discuss logistics. We have to store the glass show for a bit longer, until the modernism show comes down, so we can piggy-back the shipping. Involves some reshuffling, and I'll be moving crates and pedestals next week, getting things in the proper order. Left work an hour early, to get home before some showers, because I really needed to drive up with supplies. Not working tomorrow, first Saturday off in a long time, and don't have to be back at the museum until Tuesday. I have designs on some yard work. I went to the library, then the liquor store, for a back-up bottle of whiskey, prepared a menu in my head, went to Kroger and bought the necessary ingredients. First grilling of the year, and I get a lovely London Broil that I'll rub with various chilies and herbs, grill for eight minutes a side over a very hot fire. Instead of my usual sauce I'm going to open a jar of horseradish jam that Linda brought, her last visit, because I love horseradish. I'll serve this with mashed potatoes and a side of asparagus that I'll cut into bite-sized pieces, cook in butter with caramelized onions. Four different breads in the freezer, fresh eggs in the fridge, plenty of butter, morels in the leaf-litter. I bought several avocados, in varying degrees of ripeness; cheap, this time of year, and I love them so. I just ate one, with a pinch of salt, fresh ground pepper, and a few dashes of a balsamic hot sauce Linda also brought me from Minnesota, which is not very hot and works well on a great many things. I like it on my morning grits, it's great on omelets, and it dresses roasted vegetables beautifully. In some ways life is mostly about condiments. It's very quiet, I flip the breaker on the fridge, and the only sound is my black haired Dell, and the noise I make pounding with two fingers on the keyboard. I actually have a back-up keyboard, ready to plug in, because I abuse them so. Last time, I bought two. I don't so much want to change my behavior, as allow for it. An extra keyboard is a minor thing. Almost everything fails eventually, look at the record. Ten thousand ways you can ask a question, ten thousand replys. Everyone sees everything differently. Vested interests, pain and suffering, the price of tea in China. The implied verb. I do that more often. It might mean something, or it might not. You know I struggle with meaning. Consider that dream where the cat rolled me off the sofa, I was thinking about that tonight, I don't have a cat, but there are cats that I could use metaphorically. I'd rather just walk in a fog. Reality is so damning. The natural world bifurcates exactly here, my property (not me) is where two drainages begin, one to the north and one to the south. They both flow into the Ohio, and thus the Mississippi, but I see this as small steps: where I pee, late at night. The iris, in town, is spectacular, my favorite flower; I break into tears, remembering something. You and your legs. Don't get me started.