Trapped

Snow in street lamps
A prismatic dream
after a night at the pub

Stayed in town to make some phone calls, to try and solve the Jeep issues. No luck, no one was home. I'll deal with somehow, still exploring my options. Two tours through the Carters takes my mind off problems, and I had a good time. College Art History students. Stuck in town now, snow and more coming AND I don't have a vehicle. Went over to the pub and had a pint, talking with the help. The owners came in, after a day in Columbus, babysitting the grandsons. I was ready to leave, but stayed when John came over and bought me a dram of Paddy. We talked as Barb jumped right back to pub management. The place had gotten very busy before a road-show performance of something at the University Theater. I didn't sleep well, then everyone called in that they couldn't get to work, which meant I was alone, so I buried my nose in Carter research. More snow. Pegi calls in that she won't be able to get to work to open up for the bathroom crew and I agree to stay to let them in at 8:00 Monday morning. I'm becoming the Phantom of the Museum. Walk over to Kroger through a blizzard. It is beautiful in the street lights. They had some nice small cod fillets, I knew there was a toaster oven at the museum, so I got a package, and a pouch of Baby Red mashed potatoes, and a shallot, and a bottle of whiskey. They weren't the best codfish cakes I've ever made, but they were pretty damned good. I stole some of TR's left-over salsa to top them on top of the left-over mashed potatoes. I remembered Cape Cod, doing my Post-Doctoral studies in codfish cakes. Better to be remembered for one dish than to not be remembered at all. Actually, I'm a good cook, I love letting the ingredients speak. It's all in the materials. Thinking about that today. Remembering the codfish cakes at Kay's Restaurant, where I sometimes supplied the cod, after a stint of night-fishing on the outer beach, which allowed me access to Kay's knowledge of cod and codfish cakes. I went to school in her kitchen. It wasn't my Mom's kitchen, which was completely Southern, and involved no seafood other than fried fresh-water fish and never any garlic.