Major Flooding

The Ohio cresting last night at the highest level in twenty years. I went into town to see. There's a lot of water. It'll be a big spring wrack field. Stop at the pub and have a beer with Andrew and Jim from the college. Stop at Kroger and stock up on groceries. More avocados. Got the new Jim Harrison novel at the library, and I needed some fiction. Came back the long way around and Upper Twin Creek had flooded yesterday, but the level had dropped down to a creek that was merely raging. Andrew agreed that the morels should be out soon. We were talking about recipes when the new waitress came over and started taking notes. She had just discovered morels last year. When I told her about doing a risotto, with pan-fried morels and their butter, added at the end, she nearly swooned. At that point, Cory reached over her shoulder to give me a free half-glass of Guinness because he was emptying a keg for tomorrow's Irish Celebration, and she realized that everybody knew me, deferred to, actually, this gruff dude, who seemed to know more than he should. Joel, The Wittgenstein Plumber called, and we talked about those early years on Cape Cod, 1970, what a strange and wonderful world it was. I'd stopped, on the way out of town, got a foot-long hot dog (sauce, mustard, and cheese) and onion rings; then went down to the marina, which isn't open yet, and is therefor a great place to enjoy a late lunch or early dinner watching the river. Whole trees drift past. A string of barges struggled upstream. I didn't even hear the police car before it pulled in beside me. I was the only car in the parking lot, and explained that I was just eating supper and watching the river. I had to produce papers, all of which I had, and be careful, because I didn't want to get shot. But I was slightly pissed and told him that this was public land and I was the fucking public, and that where I ate my goddamn footer was none of his concern. He took offense at that. I don't blame him, and it took a few minutes to calm things down. Anything in G, a train across the river, your girlfriend stole your pick-up truck, your dog died. Breathe out.