Driveway Report

B came over, to say he'd gotten his truck up and his other vehicle down (a "Four-Runner") and he was sure I'd be able to get in with the Jeep on Monday. Good news indeed, as I'm out of all liquids. I'm using a powdered creamer, for God's sake, drinking melted snow. B agreed drinking melted snow was fine, as long as you filtered it through a clean tee-shirt. Those little black particles are bothersome. And there's a metallic quality to it. Still, I stay healthy, except for the splayed hip and a foot that is constantly out of line. It's amazing I walk in and out, old and used up as I am, but it still mediates between the outside world and the inside world, and I don't mind stopping six or eight times to look around, I'd rather see what was offered, than to never see; consider the event horizon. I have to go sleep. Warm enough that I kicked off my blanket, then woke up a few hours later cold. The whole sleep thing is seriously out of whack, but it doesn't much matter. For years I wrote facing a wall, now I write in what is essentially a cupola, windows all the way around, and I'm constantly distracted, but at the same time, integrated into the natural world. B came over because he had heard the frogs, knew I would have heard them, and wanted to share that seasonality. That winter had broken. We'll have more snow, more cold weather, but the frogs had spoken at last. I wish I had cooked some grits last night. This new little crock-pot, designed for making hot dips for tail-gating, is perfect for grits. Got it at Kroger for $10. Whole grain grits with some acorn meal, is a solid basis for a diet. Cat-tail shoots will be starting soon, and various other greens. Food is the least of my worries. Access, state of mind, whether or not I need a particular comma, are much more pressing issues. I brought in a loaf of bread yesterday and I felt like a king. Beans on toast, apples on toast, a de-boned chicken thigh in cream sauce on toast. On a roll. A loaf of bread provides me with eight or ten meals. I can't keep chickens, though I'd like to have my own eggs, but there are too many predators, and it would be a losing battle, so I buy local eggs. Still, averaged over the month, I eat for less than three dollars a day, whiskey and tobacco is another issue. I need a grant for whiskey and tobacco.