Things Could Quickly Turn

Fire must have beguiled early man.   What could possibly explain this ferocious, gluttony of flame, the warmth in winter, the food that tasted better, somehow, the fields that were more fertile after the fires devastation?  It’s cold in this room.  We’re still laboring with the heater.  The fireplace isn’t simply decorative.  I’m sitting here watching three logs be consumed and the heat is marvelous. 

I can’t recall where I remember reading about Anita Brookmayer, but I must have been moved by it as I would up tossing two or three titles into my Amazon list and “Hotel Du Laq” has now found its way to the top of my list.  Edith is visiting a hotel in Switzerland for an indeterminate amount of time.  It’s the low season.  The hotel seems to be of a sort that no longer exist in this era, an artistic gesture in it’s own right.  The repartee is pithy, sharp, immaculate.  Things could quickly turn.

My wife has now joined the vegetarian’s month.  I made huevos rancheros for lunch.  I'm don't want to cook any more.  She set about to make a vegetarian dinner in rather elaborate way, trying many new dishes and pairings.  Before I knew it my stepson was back.  I knew he was coming but hadn’t considered it would be this early.  Welcome.  He wants meat.  We have none.  We can cook you some tomorrow if you want.  He considers this.  He hadn’t signed up for any such abstention. 

It always looks much, much easier than it is when you set out to actually do it, piece by piece.  All the posts are written.  Just straighten them up, pick two photos and pick a title.   But editing is never fast.  Internet gremlins always make their appearances as well, slowing things, further still.  It’s eleven-twenty-five and I’m finally typing out the paragraphs of today’s entry. 

My wife has brought home her guzheng.  It’s a marvelous instrument, big, unavoidable, bendable, indelibly Chinese to the first listen until one hears Luna playing what the Koreans call gayageum, the stringed box, bending Hendrix licks, without any distortion, suggesting the instrument was anything the player wanted it to be. My wife used to practice the guzheng daily.  She had good chops to show for it.  But she stopped for a number of years and is now trying to get her process back in place.  One of those strings is sorely out of tune. 

Saturday, 01/06/18