The Interruptions

First the phone, an old friend, in his cups over the death of his cat. Then the crows set up such a squawk that I finally took them some mice. The mice catching is going well, fourteen in the freezer. But the traps are another interruption. Then I hear a car laboring up the driveway and it's the engineer I talked with before, and he'd brought his wife to see my staircase. I made them coffee and toasted left-over biscuits. Interesting people, very bright. They left and I took a walk looking for late-season mushrooms. Interrupted by two good old boys with their bows, out scouting deer. They were thirsty, so we walked back to the house and I gave them a beer. Actually polite young guys, early twenties, not a clue; and they couldn't believe that anyone could own so many books. I told them they could hunt the far side of the opposite ridge and to not block the driveway. I had a lamb shank I needed to cook, so I seared it and put it on to stew with onions, adding potatoes and carrots later. I like to simmer this for several hours. Works well for me, because I don't have to use a knife and I can eat one-handed, which means I can hold a book in my left hand. I turn the pages with a bone folder held in my right hand, between bites, that I can easily clean with my napkin. Then my older daughter calls, which I had been looking forward to, and we talked about the play she's in now and how I couldn't get out there because I'm trying to get ready for winter. The pantry is looking good, and Rodney said he'd be out to finish insulating the floor on Friday, which means maybe within the week, and I go to Family Support tomorrow to see about the firewood vouchers. If I never have to use a gas chain-saw again it'll be too soon. I'll keep using the little electric one, it's more like a woodworking tool. I've cut some interesting joints with an electric chainsaw. One, in this house; there's a place where a natural dogwood post supports a walnut stringer and all the surfaces are irregular. The cut is very nearly perfect and I did it freehand, with an electric chainsaw. Ralph would yell at the end of a workday "good enough" and we'd all holster our hammers. Climb down and get a cold beer. If the owner was at all astute, there'd be cold beer. On Friday, we'd have a martini lunch with lobster rolls and deposit our checks.