Grading, grading, and more grading
today. One gets into a rhythm. It’s a whole lot more efficient to drop the
bulldozer plow down and burrow forward.
You know what your criteria are.
You know that that last essay was like, so you can be consistent. And the day that started well before the
dawn has now evaporated. Kids want dinner.
I call the little
one down. “Help me chop garlic.” I have a dish in mind that has lots and lots
of garlic. Take this white knot of cloves and reduce
it to a minced plate of garlic, would you dear?
This meets with resistance. Of
course it does. But soon it’s overcome
and she’s cutting out the garlic from within the husks and cutting it down into
a fine minced poultice.
She wants to play
her tunes while she chops garlic. I’m
OK with that. She gets two tunes. I’ve heard this song and the next song
before. I’m hardly hip but I can easily
name all three BTS rappers in a heartbeat.
The singers are harder.
Dare-I-say? They all sound
alike.” Jimin looks different. I can sometimes positively identify Jimin.
The garlic dinner
goes well. I oversee the coking and for
the chicken, well, how can one have too too-much-garlic. More tastes better. I imagine my grandmother for whom the taste
of garlic was evil. More garlic in a dish
meant more evil, as if the devil had had cloves of the stuff garlanded around
the apples.
Thursday, 6/20/19
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