Rough Language

Reading some Harry Crews and James Dickey last night, enjoying the cadence of Southern Speak. I've known so many of these people, learned so much about language. American dialects. People from NYC could not understand the people from Duck Hill. Another morning of rain, then just overcast, and I stayed the house all day. All night reading, so I had to take a morning nap, then a large breakfast/lunch; I never got out of my bathrobe. Read a Carl Hiaasen I'd missed, a very funny guy, then Davenport and Sauer essays. Don't feel like cooking so I eat left-over rice with onion and chilies. During dinner I was reading recipes for snake in a game cookbook, actually I ended up reading most of the recipes, fairly simple country cooking. I've never eaten porcupine. I had a good list, for the trip into town. The wind had blown during the night and the driveway was solid, though beat up a bit by all the rain. Evidence of trees down everywhere. Out in the country everyone drives a pick-up with a chain-saw in the back, so this firewood disappears immediately and the roads are quickly cleared. Low-lying roads had flooded, and the bottoms, where the Scioto runs into the Ohio was a vast inland sea. Too many things to do, so I decided to make a special trip to town for the laundry and a trip to Big Lots, and another trip to Kroger, because my two daughters are coming to visit, next week, and I'll need to feed them, I make some plans. Vague, changeable plans, but a place to start. Third week in January, I'm already into survival mode, and I don't want any other responsibility. Stopped at B's on the way home, to exchange a couple of books, he reminded me that my daughters are grown, and that it was their decision to visit me. Light rain falling, Trump becomes president. I read Basho all morning, with a second bookmark in the back to follow the notes. Half the book (the SUNY edition, translated by Barnhill) is notes, a literal translation of words and phrases. I get so involved that I manage to miss the inauguration on the radio. JC calls later and tells me that it really did happen. I'm embarrassed that this could actually be the case, but I've been embarrassed before by the American Politic: Viet Nam, Ronald Reagan, the Supreme Court electing a president. But this is beyond the pale. One buys elections, that's how it's done. I'm so angry I can hardly contain my self. Formerly I would have taken a long walk, but I can't physically do that any more, so I resort to cooking pig's ears. Which reminded me of cooking the shell of a soft-shelled turtle, both which end up with a product that is actually quite good and have the food value of a golf ball. I'd found a package in the frozen food case. You boil them, in an herb brine, then cool them in the liquid, skin them, cut them into strips and fry them, rolled in a spicy cornmeal. I just eat them, out of hand, but they're very good on a salad with roasted yellow grape tomatoes.