Muggy Weather

It was uncomfortable outside today. I walked over to the pub at lunch, but because they'd been closed for two days, for remodeling, it was packed; left there, walked over to Kroger to get a protein shake for lunch, and when I got back to the museum, I was slightly nauseous. I worked manual labor outdoors for thirty years, now, 95 degrees with 95% humidity makes me want to vomit. Nice back and forth with Diana today, about the Chautuaqua bio. Mac wanted to get the word 'goat' in there somewhere, and I had almost said that I was a goat herder for 15 years, but I felt I had mentioned enough things that I had been or done. At the reception last Friday, someone I was talking with said that they had Goggled me, so today, in the midst of the bio thing, I Goggled myself, which I hadn't done in years, to see who I was. There's a nice review of The Cistern. Then I read few paragraphs, because Diana had asked what I considered my form to be, correctly anticipating what I thought, that I write paragraphs. I sometimes think of them as blocks of text. It's just a manner of working. Hard left margin and let the computer control the line breaks. That way I just have to focus on the words and the punctuation, which is more than enough for my addled brain. If I had known it wasn't going to rain, I would have stopped at the pub for a mug, to see the painted new stage, compliment everyone on their efforts, but there were some large thunder-heads building to the northwest, my weather direction, and I beat it on home. There wasn't any rain, of course, and I could have had a drink with John Hogan, himself, and still got home safely. Truth be known, I do most of my drinking alone, writing paragraphs. I never get a drink before I turn on my computer. It's a house rule. Before I go to bed, I always go outside and pee, look and listen. House rule. If I'm in the middle of a sentence, I don't answer the phone. I don't have an answering machine but I do have a mute button, and I mute almost everything, otherwise you can't hear what's going on around you: what did Jim Harrison say, the dulcet cry of a meadowlark? Loons have a way of making it real. Or bullfrogs. Crows work, for me, they're always around, and they're always casting criticism, they never like anything, everything is always sub-par. Two crows get together and they always bitch. The nature of the beast. I find some great mushrooms, a delicious pored mushroom, Boletus Edulis, which I commonly use in risotto as a dried substitute original (risotto recipes often call for the dried European Boletus). I didn't send this last night, because I hadn't gone back and deleted the last two sentences, which I usually do. Then I woke up a bit late this morning and the power was out, and I wanted to get to the museum early, to shave. Several groups of Summer Camp kids in today, and I couldn't do much, so I holed up in my office doing Carter research. Did go down and clean the kitchen, haul trash, stock the bathrooms. When I got home, B came over for a drink, and we talked about the driveway. It needs serious work. We'll split the price, and as an extra I'll get the frog ponds drained, and be able to drive closer to my back door. This was on my list, and now it's going to happen. A couple of loads of fill, this whole operation might set me back $500, and will make my life infinitely easier. Another $1000 on the Jeep, for new shocks and butt-kicking tires, and I'll be set for another winter. It was so hot and muggy today that it was hard to breathe. I picked enough blackberries for dessert and breakfast, B is already canning them, he figured he'd already picked four gallons, his energy amazes me, I've picked a few quarts to keep up with my consumption, but I rarely get ahead with anything. B hangs a gallon bucket down his front, with a string around his neck, so he can pick with both hands. You have to admire his technique.