joe_haldeman @ 2015-09-11T09:39:00

(Judith Clute, while fixing dinner):  "Some things in one's life are as they've been for people for thousands of years.  But they had to catch the chicken and clean it and pluck it . . ."


I remember as a child visiting Oklahoma, how terrified I was about having chicken over at Aunt Kat's, a small farm.  They would catch a chicken, chop its head off, rip out its entrails, dip it in boiling water and then pull off the feathers by handfulls.  Then joint the thing with a cleaver.  Let the cats play with the head.  Bon appétit!

The result probably tasted good, floured and fried in Crisco.  I don't remember.

I had one of those days yesterday.  Started out well; I pedaled down to the Books-a-Million and bought an armload of magazines to  take on the boat trip.  As soon as I started back, though, the heavens opened up.

It was an old-fashioned gullywasher.   Rain coming down so hard I really couldn't see.  Went up some side roads so I wouldn't be near traffic – got lost and had to slowly double back over rutted back streets – a blinded car almost hit me as I turned into my street – and finally I got home thoroughly drenched and shaken.   In an earlier era I would've poured a healthy tot of rum, but was content to get out of my wet clothes and have a small glass of white wine out on the porch.  (Of course the storm stopped abruptly. )

My regular bike's in the shop, so I was wobbling along on the old Trek racer.  Its narrow high-pressure tires were not what I needed!

Had about an hour to relax in the tub, and then we went out to pick up Chuck and Judy Broward to go to an early supper and a play.  Good food at the little Italian restaurant by the theater, and an amusing slight musical about what happened before the start of Peter Pan.  The female lead was a good powerful singer, small body for such a large voice.  Her face was wonderfully mobile and emotional.

I slept soundly, till dawn.


So headed out now to get a haircut and beard trim, then write.  Not going off for holidays for another week, but have become so shaggy it's uncomfortable.

Joe