Sweet Spot

It's so quiet in the early morning, three, four or five, read for a couple of hours, then nap, then breakfast and coffee. Stopped down at the lake and watched the heat releasing into the air. The state income tax return was in the mail box, so I thought I'd buy a decent bottle of whiskey and some groceries. Sampled a nice tomato bisque at the pub. Picked up a small strip steak and an avocado. High on the hog. And a great dinner, in the half-dark, reading with a headlamp. Lost a couple of hours looking for a very small screw, before I remembered I had a back-up screw, and repaired my reading glasses. I didn't even need to do this, because I hardly ever use those glasses anyway, unless I'm looking something up in the OED, I was looking up "settle", and I needed the glasses. I could use the magnifying glass, but I always get distracted, looking at dead bugs or something. The screw isn't exactly the correct size, and these are cheap glasses, ten bucks at CVS, so I melt the socket with my Bic lighter and jamb the screw home. It works well enough, though I can't close them up anymore, and put them, opened, on a dictionary of Americanisms. As expected, a good frost in the bottoms but not even close on the ridge. Cold air falls and the ridge top soil is already warmed. I'm in the market for a decent probe thermometer that I could use to chart soil temperatures. Surprise visit from a Colporteur handing out copies of the Watchtower. We shared a few laughs about access. I suppose life is somewhat easier if someone else dictates your mission. I made a small mushroom soup (two servings, both of which I promptly devoured) with just morels, chicken stock and shallots. I added mushrooms, fried in bacon fat, until I couldn't add any more and still call it a soup. This was so good I had to stretch out on the sofa afterward. Served in a fairly flat soup bowl on a couple of toasted slices of French bread. I rarely eat a whole loaf of French bread before it gets stale, so I freeze slices that I can pop out and either fry or toast. Things on toast have become 40-50% of my diet. One virtue is that I can easily eat with one hand and read with the other, and another is that I eat right out the skillet and don't have any dishes to wash. I have started spring cleaning. I started a pile of clothes that I need to take to the Goodwill. Clothes accumulate around me, coats and sweaters, and I wear things out. My mother always said I was 'tough on clothes'. I assumed it was part of the mandate, fibers abrade, knees and elbows develop holes. But she said it was more than that, she said I often slid into third when I could have gone in standing up. First, I like the dust cloud, and second, I actually like the abrasion, where ass meets the ground. Forces you too remember later. I'm pretty sure that was my point. Peter Piper. Tom 'O Bedlam. I have to laugh. I like being invisible. Steph said she thought I should be banned. Maybe so. I know I like hiding under the cover. Are you fully informed of your rights?