Almost Cynical

Appropriate behavior is sometimes difficult to muster. Two fat people and their shopping cart blocking the aisle in Kroger, going over their shipping list, made me mad today. Really fat people take up a lot of space. Did a large shop, and I'll do another one next week. I think I need to take tomorrow off and just be quiet. It surprised me that I got upset so easily today. Again at Kroger, I was helping a very old woman unload her cart (she was taking forever) and the asshole behind me jammed his cart into my ass. I let fly with some expletives, creative ones involving camel shit and his mother. The cashier was choking with laughter. First thing this morning I was pissed because Mackletree is closed and I have to drive around. I go out up the creek, because it is the fastest and least hassle, and I haven't been that way in a year so it's an interesting drive. Do my business, the grocery shopping, the library, then visit with TR and he has the Petroski book for me, the history of the pencil. I've been looking forward to this, and my spirits brightens somewhat. I drive back on the river road, then all the way up the creek to B's house, give him back his battery charger, have a glass of water, chat briefly, then go home and stash foodstuffs. By the end of the day, I was feeling better, maybe it was just the Irish whiskey, but, hey, I have crows to feed. Another benefit of the recent yard work are the dramatically increased sight lines. Ms Fox came out today, for her apple, and she had two kits with her, this year's family; when I went out, to roll her an apple, the kits ran behind her. Surely I was being exhibited as the purveyor of apples. She held it as she usually does, in front of her nose, with her two front feet, the kits were at right angles, and they looked like a furry model of a cathedral. My weekly oyster treat was a new experience. I'd read in several places recently about using a dab of citrus sorbet as a topping, and I must say it's fantastic. I roasted them open on the grill. For the first time in six months I can see the other side of Low-Gap Hollow, just glimpses, but my universe is expanding. Also means direct sunlight through the tree-tops when I write in the afternoon so I have to prop a drawing or painting in the window to block the light. I dislike things that block the view, so it needs to be easily removable. Soon as the sun is past the window jamb I take whatever it is down, so I can watch the colors of the setting sun. I remind myself, as I'm micro-waving mice, that I'm actually not a strange person, I can explain why I do all of the things I do, none of them are mysterious or cause for alarm. It's true I know a fair number of strange people, in awkward situations I might serve as mediator, in a dispute, but my vested interest is that we survive below the radar. Those fucking black helicopters are a pain in the ass, but if I wear a wet-suit and cover myself with mud, it's difficult to detect me from the background radiation. I went over and looked at the cub-board today, and I felt pretty good about surviving for a month or two. Another big shop and I'd be good for the winter; get the floor finished, the firewood laid by, and all I have to decide is what to read. The obvious contenders. Pynchon, Infinite Jest, all of Barry Lobez. As well as anything I can plan, I know I'll reread Gunter Grass, The Flounder, and those early short stories by Hemingway.