Monday, September 21, 2020

Making Those Funky O

The mix I was listening to started out with some John Gilmore.  The AI in Spotify decided it was time for me to move over to some Ornette to something Mssr. Coleman called "Broad Way Blues" which had me swinging my head.  Why is sleep so fickle?  I was tired a few hours back.  I had told myself that I would finish a blog post or two and then, I would definitely take a nap.  Problem is when you ‘power through’ you generally wind up somewhere else.  I rose from one and then another nod to push to completion and then, I was no longer tired. 

 Who cares?  Cept or the fact that I have onward obligations.  I am supposed to have intelligent things to say in an hour or so.  And I eat.  And I have some drinks.  And my 9:00PM call comes and you know man, I am reminded that the grim sleep-reaper is ruthless with that scythe and he has cut me down more than once after dinner with a full belly.  


My wife told me she’d overlooked getting flour, on her supermarket run.  Could I go and get some?  Well, certainly.  It meant she’d be making those funky O (a.k.a. lotus root) her that her older brother is so good at preparing.  I’d requested them, as we bought an O when we were in H-mart the Korean goods store last night.  They don’t sell O at Tops, or Shop Right or nowhere else around here.   I went out and got flour, got in line, notice it was non-bleached wheat flour and figured, it would be OK.  Oh, Lord it was not OK. No, no.   I was lectured on why wheat flour was a very bad thing that would never work when making O.  It’s tough for husbands out there.  Yes, sir. 

One friend, two friends, three friends four in the Bay are wondering, gee, what’s it like to be back in the east coast?  Our AQI's are beginning to resemble the ones you used to have in Beijing.  How strange the way tastes migrate.  I am awfully content here.  Yes, we have snow in the winter and humidity in the summer, but, as I was trying to explain to my daughters, the Hudson Valley is what ‘normal’ is for me.  There are no typhoons, nor earthquakes, nor forest fires, nor dust storms.  You always knew you were alright here.  I tell these friends who ask that it’s a swell gig, living in the Hudson Valley.  The Autumn is coming, I’m rather glad for that.  I’ve taken the first step on a long photographic journey today, snapping one and then another tree in the back yard.  The idea is to take a photo every day and then, later line the all up, spin through them and watch the trees turn in real time. 




Monday, 09/14/20

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