Not That

Bobcat screech just before midnight so I got up and stoked the fire. I might have gone back to sleep, but the dog and cat routine at the compost pile had gotten loud. Put on an over-shirt and got a couple of marbles out of the jar. All I can see is eyes in the night, but you can estimate the contour of a body. I don't want of oversell myself, but at thirty feet I'm deadly accurate with a Wrist-Rocket. I found a steel ball-bearing in my pocket that I'd found in the parking lot at Kroger and decided to shoot the alpha male of the dog-pack on the ass. I can reload and shoot a marble from my pocket in under five seconds, so I might well, in the confusion, get off another shot. They don't stand a chance. The cat has seen me in operation before, she backs off a few feet and stays attentive, and when the dogs are gone, goes back to rooting around in the compost. In the meantime the new year rolls over, just a way of marking time, to know when the elk ford the river or when the salmon struggle upstream. Make a note on your cave-wall. I don't remember a single argument in the past year. I just walk away. I used to argue, I don't anymore. Rather than start a fire right away, as soon as it's light I go out and work on fire wood, then go for a walk, still examining oak galls, which seem to come in an almost infinite number of forms. I need to read up on oak galls. Cut my thumb, splitting one, and have to go home to flush the wound and tape it up. My hands are generally quite dirty. Perfect timing on starting a fire, it didn't get above freezing all day and then the temps starting dropping, by which time I had a nice fire, burning odds and ends from the woodshed. I didn't want nor need to max out the stove, I just needed to cook a pone of cornbread. A hoe-cake, on top of the stove, because I didn't need to heat the oven to 450 degrees, the house is warm enough. Veal is not veal anymore, but quite a lot of young beef hits the market at this time of year sold as veal. Better profit margin to sell and not winter-over. Same with lamb. A veal or lamb stew would be good. Some new potatoes and baby carrots. Smash some of the vegetables to thicken the broth. When stew gets thick enough, I have it on toast, or on a toasted slice of cornbread. I'm blessed, actually, because I don't need much. Smoked meat I hang from the ceiling and dried beans. A few cheap books from the Goodwill. The smell of neat's foot oil (where does the word 'neat' come from?) either tack or a baseball mitt, leather, the smell of that. I promised myself some clear sailing. I had to go get the mail, expecting my bills, so I went to town, the library and Kroger, bought more Irish whiskey and a pork tenderloin. I plan to pound out rounds and stuff them with crab-cakes. I bought several pounds of greens and another smoked jowl, meals ahead. Hard freeze last night so I went to town early and got back home before the driveway had completely thawed. Turned on the radio and started a fire, had to turn the radio off because they were doing all of that year end crap, and once the fire was secure, settled in my chair with a mug of tea and a John Lescroart novel. A good fire, a glass of whiskey, a decent novel, really, is heaven to me. Hours later I cook a veal loin chop and steam a sweet potato, with a butter sauce, salt and pepper, high on the hog.