Lost Pages

I lost a couple of pages (I almost said 'days', which, in a way they are) somewhere between writing and sending. In theory I know how to keep it from happening, but Glenn or TR or D would have to teach me a new system, because I don't technically understand anything involved. Can't even get the new printer working. Yesterday, re-hanging art work at the nursing home, was the first I'd been around dementia for an extended period of time. Ugly scene, D and I made a pack to just wander off into the mountains. Get eaten by something. It was depressing, I got a little drunk last night, thinking about it all. Justin wants to cook some more, but he's recording the big DEMO tape the next two Sundays; I might feed TR and Megan one time before then. I'm a little afraid of these Chinese frog-legs Kroger got in, but I can't not try them. They're large, radioactive large, like small fryer legs, and I bought just a single pair, to see if I got sick or anything. No reason to get caught with twelve packages of contaminated frog legs in your freezer. Saute some sliced morels in butter, lift them out with a slotted spoon (I always wanted to say that), add some garlic to the pan, cook the frog legs hot enough to kill anything obvious, then put the mushrooms on top, pour in a goodly dash of white wine, lid on the pot, let them steam for a couple more minutes; a very good, really caramelized onion, red pepper, roasted tomato, and several different chilies, reconstituted in an Irish Whiskey thing, that I served myself on a corn-meal mush, sliced and fried, was so good I nearly cried, I wonder why I do it, but dibs is its own reward. Just saying. Despite the fanfare, I usually don't think more than three moves ahead. I have friends that see the entire game before it's started. Truly, I'm blessed with friends.