So it appears to be another quiet weekend finding myself slightly under the weather. At some point something's going to have to blow after all this downtime, but right now nothing is blowing, other than my nose. I spent most of yesterday curled up in front of the fire reading a really good book, Don't Fall In Love With A Rambler, about Jimmy Martin. It's not about the music at all, but a great story of the culture of the musicians from the eyes of a woman. I might send Ernie out to the library today to pick up a few more books for me. Any music book recommendations? I still want to read Peter Cooper's Bill Anderson book but I don't think the library has it. I'll poke around but please let me know if there's anything I should look for.
Here's a good Cynthia-in-a-nutshell picture.
The house seems oddly quiet without Annie. Nobody has approached her pod. I think sometimes these things are harder than other times because of where you are in your life. When our cat Harlan had to be put down I was very sad because I loved that big old mean seeming wimpy guy, but I was also in the midst of dealing with caring for my parents and the boys were little so there just wasn't the space in my life to feel it as much as I feel the loss of Annie. And of course Annie's loss is tied in with the loss of my parents for me so it resonates a bit more. Last night I had dreams about our old apartment in Chicago....we went and someone else was living in our apartment and all our things were gone. The lake was higher than ever and we couldn't find the landlord and they were building a highrise out in the lake that was going to block our view. I loved that apartment. I always dream about it when I'm sad. There's always some of kind of natural disaster or threat to it. Funny what our mind does with sadness.
Here's a little Jimmy Martin for you. I did enjoy how much she talked about their sex life in the book. He was a troubled man but you watch this and you can see how he was probably charismatic.
Oh, by the way, for anyone who happens to think that I cook well...I made an absolutely miserable fish stew the other night....so bad I threw it out. That broke my heart too because it was 2 big pieces of beautiful (and expensive) cod, and some gorgeous little gold potatoes and carrots from Farmer Greg (Claybank Farms). It hurt my heart to toss it but I'm guessing it was some combination of the canned diced tomatoes and the potatoes....it had a horrid metallic taste. So much for the herbes de Provence and black olives. Sigh. As Ernie said, "the intentions were good." Instead of eating that I peered in the refrigerator and found some old corn tortillas and made quesadillas with leftover pulled pork, some cheese, hot sauce, and parsley, and damned it they weren't utterly delightful. A hell of a lot cheaper too. Oh well. Sometime you win, sometimes you make do, huh?
And continuing on this very stream of consciousness post, sometimes a clementine is a magical thing. Ernie was in the other room and the scent of his clementine came drifting out. I told him it smelled good and he came deposited a fully peeled plump little clementine on my laptop and it tasted extraordinary. Small pleasures.
And now, before I drift away to more random things...my February news. WILD PONIES on Saturday, February 10, 2018! Something to keep the February blues away...I am so pleased!