I started the day with what I think of as a cleansing run. After a long run, like my 21-miler yesterday, I find it useful to stumble out the door the next morning. I picture my blood coursing through my muscles, washing away the lactic acid and waste, and assisting the repair of yesterday's beating. A cloudless sky greeted me, warming the twenty-five degree air, not at all windy like yesterday. I felt so good after a couple miles, I changed my plans and turned 4 miles into 6, toying with more but deciding not to be stupid.
I lied. I didn't start with a run. I started by writing, working on an idea that came to me overnight. Maybe I'll fill you in if it gels.
"What about me?" asks Virginia. "I'm waiting, like a pubescent girl, to develop, and you keep branching off into other things."
Right. Sorry about that, Virginia. Tell me what you want to become and we'll go there.
As I ran, I remembered that at Aid Station 5, Jennings Creek, the Hellgate workers offer breakfast, including pancakes. That stuck in my mind, so when I got home I mixed up a batch. We have this awful set of measuring spoons that includes a 1 1/2 teaspoon measure. Not for the first time, I thought it was the teaspoon measure and added too much baking powder to the brew. I tried to remove some, but most of it had already gotten wet. I think that's why the darn things rose too high and required flipping over and over again before the wet batter cooked. As they turned darker and darker, I found more and more smoke in my eyes. I'd bet this evening the house still smells like burned pancakes. I have a notion to break off the 1 1/2 teaspoon and toss it in the trash. Of what use is it anyway?
Next, I decided to recycle some old locust fence posts, given to us by the same folks who donated the fence rails we used for the greenhouse compost box. I cut eight of them into edges for two beds in the center of the greenhouse, staked them in, and filled them with a mix of aged manure and topsoil. Now I'm ready for the seeds I've ordered from Southern Exposure Seed Exchange, shipped last Friday.
Public Art And The Magic Eight Ball
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