Personal Day

Slept late, delicious, brunch (yogurt, eggs, kimchi), gathered the laundry, made a list, and headed to town. Stopped at the museum, to see if C and M had everything they needed. They are painting fools. It was just noon and they had 50% of all the painting done. Amazing turn of events. They ran me off. Did my laundry, stopped back by to chat with TR about the schedule, went to Kroger, came home. Hot muggy day, and after an hour the old AC unit can only bring the temperature down to 81. Black Dell likes 78, so she's laboring a bit. When I stopped back by the museum, I looked up kimchi (kimchee interchangeable) and got what looks to be a very good recipe, I read a dozen or so, and a couple of interesting articles, to make sure I had the process down. It is fairly simple. I'm going to have to get Anthony to throw me a ceramic fermentation vessel. I can use a gallon glass jar in the meantime. A solitary crow was watching me most of the afternoon, I think waiting for a new round of dead mice. First it landed in a sumac bush right outside my writing window, pecking at last year's seedpod and glaring at me through the window; then, a while later, it landed in the young hickory to the southwest, and just stared at me for a couple of minutes. I'm sorry I don't have any dead mice (or "I'm sorry, I don't have any dead mice", which are quite different sentences) but I don't, which is too bad, because we could have done some bird/human bonding. Had a cigaret with Ronnie, at the farmer's market, watching people. The young woman who sells honey is a stunner. A great body and great posture, which is a killing combination, and she's well aware of the impact she has on males. The drive home was interesting because of one matter: a timber rattler in the road. I stopped, to see what it was doing, maybe to encourage that it get off the road; a good-old-boy, coming the other way, wanted to run over it, but I was parked too close, he shot me a finger and nearly shot off the road. Too many Bud Lights, too early in the day. I run the snake into the bushes by stamping my feet, rattlesnakes, maybe all snakes, hate vibration. I'd guess because they have so much surface contact. And it scoots off, into relative obscurity, beneath the under-story. My history with snakes goes way back, and I don't like them, but I don't kill them for no reason, better we should just all go our separate ways. The driveway is canopied almost to being a tunnel, except for a couple of spots where trees have fallen and the light comes through full-bore. One of the places where the light is intense is right at the beginning of the steepest part of the slope, and I'm always blinded, this time of year, coming out of the canopy. I've taken to stopping there, shifting to 4-wheel low, and creeping up the last hundred feet, because it's so difficult to see. There's not a lot of room for error. Consequently, I always feel great when I achieve the ridge, do a little jig, gather my parcels, beat it on down the road. The super-moon just hit a break in the trees and it's a lovely thing. Reminds me of the night I was detained for fornicating on the beach, south of Ponte Vedra; the potentially arresting officer realized that if he was off duty, he would be doing the same thing. After the pill, but before HIV was the heyday of recreational sex. Now I'd need a certificate and an isolation period, and even then, I'd be concerned. The Queen finally got it right, at Ascot, after 207 years, picked the right horse and won 200k, which I'm sure she needs, with the price of help and all.