Seeking Order

By four in the afternoon, Xmas Eve, it was raining in sheets. I was cooking and hurried through my preparation because I was cooking on a hot-plate as it was above 60 degrees and I didn't want a fire, it seemed like a waste of wood. Made a butternut squash soup, stir-fried vegetables, some excellent Jasmine Rice from Louisiana; I have a pair of duck breasts to cook tomorrow. Then maybe a duck-fried rice or a duck hash. The wind was coming up, as predicted, and the temps are going to fall 40 degrees in the next day. I'm set on food and I have enough wood. Probably lose phone or power or both, but I'm good with that, I have a headlamp and extra batteries. There are several stacks of books. AND I'll be eating duck hash on toast points. Fucking crows are out, I can't imagine why, and I stop what I'm doing, nothing of any import, folding shirts or rolling ties, and nuke the last mice in the freezer. It started raining hard and I wanted to read about cooking tripe so I came inside. I ended up reading about cooking pig ears. I did find some recipes for Menudo, read an interesting essay about hominy in its dried forms; does tripe have any food value? do pig's ears? Not that it matters, we seem to do what we must. As a rule, I walk off to the side of the road, where my prints are not apparent. A normal per-cognition. I'm not even remotely connected to anything. I swear, my hands are clean. It's a strong wind blowing, I'd better go.