I walked home tonight singing Blaze Foley songs to myself. It was one of those “cold, cold world” days, I suppose. That’s not a bad thing. It wasn’t particularly even cold today. The world was friendly enough, and my acquaintances are warm enough. There is nothing compelling complaint today. I reckon my pace was fit the tune as I walked.
I’m fat. There is no one to wipe away my problems and few to even distract me from them. It’s just grown-up stuff answering a circumstance impelled by childishness, or perhaps more accurately mindlessness. That’s nothing new for me and not really even a deal-breaker. I’ll stick around and see it through, Inshallah.
I did find this in my mailbox when I got home tonight, which is cool.
Tomorrow I’ll make jalapeno cornbread to go with the beans and greens I made today. That’s about as ambitious as I plan to be at this point. I’ll also start a new book. I’m finishing up “Hunger” by Knut Hamsun. I finished Dostoevsky’s “Notes from Underground” the other day and “The Last War Trail” a few days prior to that. I’m on something of a roll in that respect.
I’m about to go spend a week in Olathe house-sitting for a friend of mine while he sees his family in San Jose, CA. I reckon I can get some work done on the website and get some books read and play with the dogs off-leash a lot, hopefully in the snow.
We’re supposed to get snow tomorrow, but it’s too warm for it right now.
I reckon that’s the farm report for now.