[title type="h5"]Saturday, May 3, 2014. Trying To Be Normal.[/title]
What I need to do is go to bed around eleven or midnight, and get up at seven. But my brain keeps throwing out cues from Italian Standard Time, putting me to sleep in my office chair at around nine or earlier. Two nights ago I kept typing in my sleep--for a few words, anyway. The passage ends with "kkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkk," when my unconscious finger lands on that key and just sits there until the computer starts beeping.
I managed to remain in bed until eight, at which time ML and The Boy I have breakfast at Mattina Bella. Pancakes, of course. I have plenty of time for my standard Saturday errands and a forty-five-minute walk with the dogs before my WWL Radio show begins late (baseball game) at three. Afterwards, the Marys make burgers and fries, and that about ends the day. But I'm making progress. I don't fall asleep at my desk until ten to ten. [divider type=""]
[title type="h5"]Sunday, May 4, 2014.Digging Out Of A Big Hole.[/title]
My day is wide open. I would like to cut the grass to make the Cool Water Ranch presentable for all the people coming over next weekend. But the lawn tractor shows even less sign of starting than it did back in October. We ask the boy across the street to give us a trim for $50. It takes him a long time, but he seems to be pleased with himself, and with the payment.
That leaves all of the day for me to get the website squared away for the first time in three weeks. I can keep publishing the daily from Europe, but the fine points of building the five or six web pages my subscribers expect every day go begging while I'm on a ship at sea.
I want to bake a batch of buttermilk biscuits for breakfast, but there is no self-rising flour in the house. So it's just my usual breakfast nourishing me for the first two-thirds of the day. A bright spot: the big navel oranges that rested in the bottom of the refrigerator for a month. Florida oranges, yet--not often seen in our part of the world since Florida's bad weather in 2004 and 2005. I know when I pick them up that aging them for a month has made them perfect. Gravid with juice to a degree far beyond comparable California fruit, they weigh noticeably more. I get a half-cup of juice from slicing one orange--and that's without any squeezing. I wish they were like this all the time.
Mary Ann is shocked by the amount of food she consumed on vacation, and she says she doesn't want to eat at all until further notice. She makes a salad for the two of us, and that's that.[divider type=""]
[title type="h5"]Monday, May 5, 2014. Red Beans Let Me Down.[/title]
Today is the first Monday since our return from Italy. I am looking forward to the rededication of my palate to Creole flavors that comes with a plate of red beans and rice. We go to the Camellia Café on LA 59 between the I-12 and Abita Springs. Their beans are usually excellent, but they are decidedly off today. They have the texture and flavor of three-day-old. (I doubt they were.) Better is the soup of the day, which looked and sounded like leftovers too--beef and peppers in a spicy broth. But it tasted fresh and good.
Written by Tom Fitzmorris May 22, 2014 02:03 in
