Aug 28 2005

it all takes more than a day to build

Category: gardening,nature,relationships,tv,weatherlittleREDelf @ 3:40 pm

Well, now that Six Feet Under has wrapped up, it’s time for the next major HBO production, Rome. Apparently, if you read about the show you’ll discover it is monumental not only in scale and ambition but in dealings, “A co-production between HBO and the BBC, ROME is one of the largest co-production deals ever by the BBC for an American series, and marks the first series co-production of the two networks. HBO and the BBC previously partnered on the 2001 miniseries Band of Brothers, which won six Emmy® Awards, including “Outstanding Miniseries.

Needless to say – i am looking forward to it, and hope it’s sexy, bloody, gold, red and reveals “a place of vibrant cruelty” that parades in with as much grandeur as it appears to have stocked behind it.

i’ve been putting in a lot of hours at work and this has been keeping me ahead of the bills and my mind out of bad places. i really want to buy a color laser printer. For some reason, i have the urge to make some collages, printed art out of my photos. i don’t know what yet, but i want the proper equipment to do it with. Any suggestions in the way of printers would be gladly received, of course.

The weather has been cooling some, and i can smell just the hinting crush of Autumn to come, but this morning a little rainstorm brought back some humidity with it. And apparently there’s some nasty little bitch storm called Hurricane Katrina wending its way up the East coast which probably means some wicked thunderstorms here in the early part of the week. She’s already upgraded to a Category 5. Yeee-haww. Anyone seen her yet?

Tomorrow on my day off, i think i will go buy some gardening gloves and a spade and a few other tools and turn over the weed-ridden planter box / garden bed in the backyard. it really is a pretty place back there with crickets and birds and even a little bunny lives there. it just needs some love and attention. i was given a hardy orange mum plant today, i may put it in the ground back there and see if there are any bulbs i can plant now or what i can do about seeding in the Spring. i do have some great wildflower mixes for later . . .

i am eating chocolate hazelnut cookie twist thingies called Crème de Pirouline and boy are they tasty!  ok – just one more . . .

Speaking of tasty boys . . .

i met a nice new friend. we ate some food and drank some wine and finished with some evil chocolate dessert thing at a local place i like. yes – he is a boy. yes – we met online through a volley of emails and phone calls. yes – we had fun and it was laid back. no – i am not comfortable calling it a date. no – he did not pay – we went dutch. no – there was only a hug good nite and promise of more time spent. perhaps perhaps perhaps. all of it, with me most ginger on the approach.

This new infused hope i have for printing, for gardening, for dare i say “love” has prompted me to study myself for what i was missing in my relationship and for what i want from Mr. WhomEverTheHellYouAre. And i have asked for the following:

a clever boy with careful hands who will look me in the eye when he’s talking and when i’m talking to him. someone who will walk beside me, not charge ahead to lead, and hold my hand in public. i don’t mind a little mystery and intrigue, but don’t appreciate narcissism, ticket-punchers, people who treat sex and intimacy like an oil-change and the lies that accompany leading a double-life.

be with me whether i am present or not.

please be sociable, polite, humourous, thoughtful, affectionate, passionate, emotional but not too messy, domesticated but well-traveled, adventurous but not utterly reckless, endearing, inspired and inclined to create.

of course – i have not mentioned that if you look like Jeff Buckley or Jean-Marc Barr as he appeared in the movie The Big Blue circa 1988, then you’re definitely my flavor. but we cannot have everything, and i won’t find him by sitting in here.

and it all takes more than a day to build . . .

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May 16 2005

it was all YELLOW

Category: food,friends,love,marriage,photography,relationships,technology,weatherlittleREDelf @ 3:38 pm

Mood: Very Happy sunny and warm
Listening to: Sunday by Sia
Reading: Mostly Harmless: Douglas Adams
Watching: Deadwood: HBO season finalé 5.29!

oh my god. it’s been almost a month since i scribbled down something in this little journal of mine.

i suppose getting out there and living and working sucks up quite a good stretch of time – and in this time some good things have been happening in my personal and creative life . . . where one thing closes it does sometimes, reopen.

Back in the day i used to be a rockstar.

That is to say, i fronted a band as a singer/songwriter and acoustic guitar when i lived in Detroit just before i met Brooks and moved to Maryland. One of my old band members, Jim phoned and emailed because he passed on our demo CD to a local podcaster.

In any event, this podcaster played two of my songs and it generated some positive feedback and so Jim and i are considering the prospect of me doing some more recording, first a bit of long distance track trading and PC to PC stuff via a lovely digital recording platform called SPIKE made by Mackie. This way we can trade files back and forth via the net, easy as you please so we can sketch out ideas until i can visit Detroit in August to lay down some studio tracks in the real. who knows what will become of all of this, but the music was something i never wanted to let go of completely and this is another chance to see what can happen.

The only rub is – i dislike my last name, and i need to figure on a name to record under. i rather like the idea of a single word name/idea like some of the female vocalists i’ve been into such as Esthero or Sia or Shivaree. i even like the idea of a phrase that is not quite associated, for instance a woman named Erin Moran records under A Girl Called Eddy. (this is probably so she is NOT mistaken for the actress who played Joanie Cunningham on Happy Days) SO – if any of you have any ideas, toss them out at me!

Also – flashing back to Detroit and to the time i met Brooks, i met another Andrea who just came out to visit me over Mother’s Day weekend through Thursday. We spent some nice time catching up, telling stories, shopping and eating . . . for Mother’s Day (since she is 8 months pregnant and we didn’t want to brave the restaurants) i decided to wait on her at home. i cooked scrambled eggs, 7-grain toast, cut some fresh brie, grapes, fresh strawberries in sugar, orange juice and a nice Moscato d’Asti dessert wine from Italy (only 5% alcohol and sweet as a mimosa). We had a banquet spread outside under an umbrella covered table on my deck and the weather was just perfect.

Then we took a 2-hour nap.

On Monday, we went to the most fabulous restaurant i have EVER dined at! Seriously – i am ruined for any other place . . . The Inn At Little Washington exceeded my every expectation, we asked for NOTHING the entire meal, the service was impeccable and like a synchronized ballet, the food was exquisite, the wine list was a novel you could never tackle including bottles aged from ’66 and priced everywhere from $25-$2000 and the cellar boasts 14,000 bottles. The garden terrace with fountain, pond and a wall of crawling ivy lit with a web of white lights was simply magical . . . The dessert was so sinful and delectable i couldn’t decide if i wanted to EAT it or crawl onto the table and fuck it! And all of this was a two hour drive into idyllic English-looking countryside in Washington, Virginia where the Inn resides in one of the few remaining actual “villages” in America. At my request – we were even allowed to tour the kitchen where all this incredible work happens.

These were my particular course selections:

1st course: Fire and Ice: Seared Tuna Sashimi with Daikon radish and Cucumber Sorbet
2nd course: A Fricassee of Maine Lobster with Potato Gnocchi and Curried Walnuts
main course: Prime Angus Tenderloin of Beef on Peanut Potatoes with a Pommery Mustard Vinaigrette
dessert: Seven Deadly Sins: A Sampling of Seven Decadent Desserts

The site describes the experience best with ” The Inn’s dining room is pure fantasy – a wondrous cocoon of luxury. Rose–colored, silk lampshades float above each table creating a private romantic world below. Under the watchful eye of Host Reinhardt Lynch, Patrick’s creations arrive at one of the 30 intimate tables as if served by invisible hands, course after course more dazzling than the last.”

oh daddy but do i ever appreciate food that rises to artform!

i also had the privilege of taking photos of Andrea and her beautiful pregnant belly, during our relaxing visit of eating and napping. i also managed to enter one into a contest for her, so she could win some prizes!

This is my favorite photo so far of the shots i have looked through:

glamourous mother

Oh yes – and i entered the Maryland Department of Natural Resources 2005 photo contest which calls for photos of Maryland’s “rich natural and recreational resources – water, wildlife, farms, fields, parks, forests and protected areas.” i certainly have plenty of those kinds of photos – my “wild” cats aside. Wish me luck on that!

i am 2 weeks out from my next wedding photo shoot for my friend Megan. It is a beautiful location that i recently attended a wedding at and so i am familiar with the surroundings and conditions. even so – Megan and i are going tomorrow afternoon to scout photo locations in the garden area for the formal/group shots. i am expecting a gorgeous June wedding and cooperative weather for her.

and silly joy of all joys – my vanity plates came in the mail!

In the midst of all this exciting creativity and reward . . . my dear friend Anne-Marie sent me a wonderful, heartfelt letter detailing her life and how she was so thrilled and fulfilled to tap back into her creative life after being unduly stunted from it by a (hopefully) soon to be removed poor partnership.

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Apr 07 2005

kick it up a notch

Category: marriage,technology,tv,weatherlittleREDelf @ 8:43 pm

My internet was down since Saturday, which made things REALLY irritating, especially since i have 2 online courses to keep up with. Where i’m at out here in the sticks means that there is NO cable internet, and even DSL won’t happen as i don’t have a clear shot of the sky what with all these trees. So for now, until they figure out how to bring hi-speed into the house via the phone or power lines or someone from Comcast comes out to develop the area, i am stuck with dual-channel (64K per) old school ISDN, which peaks at 128K and usually hangs out at around 97-98K.

For those of you who don’t know what the hell ISDN is (because it’s THAT fucking OLD) it was developed around 1984 and it stands for Integrated Services Digital Network or as i like to call it (ISDN) “It Still Does Nothing”. Lest i mention we pay just over $200 a month for it since it’s SO old school and it’s considered a metered line and a premium digital service as offered by the phone company, even though it was designed to go over fiber lines and it just comes through the copper ones, slowing it down considerably.

In any event, the reason ours was down is that the phone line had been severed somehow. It hadn’t been properly buried and was all chopped up, thus nothing could dial in. VERIZON (the cocksuckers) came out and ran a temporary line (which works) until they can run a proper one sometime soon. In the next month, maybe longer. Whatever.

weeee.

Well – i DID get my hair cut and boy is it awesome!  Think Agent Dana Scully (actress Gillian Anderson). i brought my hairdresser a bottle of my favorite nail polish and said, “can you do this color?” he smiled and said, “i got that.” The girl in the chair next to me gasped as he cut the first 6 inches off dry – WHACK! Even before i hit the shampoo bowl. Then i came back, he finished the cut by snipping at the last 4 inches and did the color. We went short and choppy with black lowlights, copper/caramel highlights, and candy apple red all over. It’s an exciting Spring change . . . short and vibrant.

new elf do.

The weather has been incredible for two days now – 78-80 degress and sunny. Hell – i even shaved my legs and put on a skirt!  i also realize that my car’s AC needs recharging. Luckily, the rain and cool temps are heading in for the weekend so i get a little reprieve. i am officially driving my happy new car now and we are making friends … i even put a sexy raspberry air freshener in it. It has a little devil cat on it with flames and some Nag Champa incense to make it smell like “me” and my house.

So far, i have run out of fuel AND been pulled over in my new car! And all in the same day! GO ME! My car stalled in a traffic circle, i pulled into the gas station 20 feet from me and died RIGHT IN FRONT OF THE PUMP! Later i went to see some jazz, had some wine and a nite cap of some Southern Comfort, went tearing down the road at 3am singing Sadé at the top of my lungs NOT looking at the speedometer and got stopped doing 70 in a 50. i told the cop i was “opening it up” and wasn’t used to the better transmission in this Mercedes vs my old one. Holy crap – i sounded like a little twat! “How’s your record?” he asked. “Great,” i replied. “It’s a long winding stretch of road here, people don’t pay attention. You’re not the fastest i’ve seen,” he smiled. And lucky ducky me – i got off with a warning.

How am i going to get this all done?!?!? Social and school obligations are kicking my ass! My friends Dave and Amy are getting married this Saturday afternoon, then i work that evening, on Sunday i am attending an aerial dance performance that Megan (the woman who’s wedding i am photographing in June) is showcased in, and i have homework up to my tits, chin, eyeballs? i dunno, i’m feeling kinda vulgar lately.

Must be all the Deadwood i’m watching . . .

See you after the weekend.

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Feb 07 2005

icyclic

Category: death,dreams,friends,poetry,weatherlittleREDelf @ 8:48 pm

:::

“After all –
What were you really looking for?
and i wonder when will i learn.
Blue isn’t red everybody knows this
and i wonder when will i learn
Guess i was in Deeper than
i thought i was if i have enough love
for the both of us . . . ”

Strange by Tori Amos

:::

the snow is almost completely melted,
but the air conditioner nearly died with
frozen lungs – coils, weeping down the wall.
i woke from nitemares of her, hot tears
on my cheek this morning, icicles dripping
from the rooftops, pattering, the feet of
following cats, behind, in front curling
like those mysterious numbers – unknown
unforeseen consequence, the heat of pain
melts the chill of fear.

an accomplished mathematician and a brilliant
physicist who saw sinister messages in Shakespearian
sonnets, visions of certain hell, doomed patterns and
curves in the language put him into his car, drove him
to a dark bridge where he jumped into the icy bay.
our tormented friend lifted the veil, saw Spring too soon
and wished to be reborn, the water carried him away.

something strange is out there in the frozen grass, the
grass that stands stock still straight up like inverted
exclamation points, silver punctuation – something up
there in the icicles pointing down, witchy accusatory
white-blue fingers, snapping off, truncated memories
touching my skin where it is neither welcome nor warm.

ice is strange – how it preserves what dies for food,
what dies to give new life, meat, red, chilled down to
blue – that something there, imbedded, i cannot dig it out,
not with claws, not until the spring thaws what is still
beneath, what is still inside – then i will be grateful for
the release and as i look outside, as the wooden planks
bloat, thirsty for water, showing their dark skin again,
and i walk safely, and the snowdrops bow their heads
in the garden and the snow is almost completely melted.

~ Andrea E. Janda

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Feb 02 2005

walking (carefully) in a winter wonderland . . .

Category: nature,weatherlittleREDelf @ 9:32 pm


Well it’s Groundhog Day and that fat, furry little buck-toothed bastard popped (or more properly, was pulled) out of his hole by a man wearing a top hat in ::snicker:: Gobbler’s Knob, Punxsutawney, Pennsylvania. “Punxsutawney Phil, King of the Groundhogs, Father of all Marmota, Seer of Seers, Prognosticator of Prognosticators declared to a host of booing people in groundhog hats that it’s going to be cold and we’re all going to hate it for six more weeks.

In related news . . . i know several people who have slipped and fallen on snow and ice. People are showing up to work with bruises, sprains, and abrasions. A couple nights ago i nearly lost control of my car. In a tailspin on a slippery dark country road, i saw headlights, tail lights, trees, barriers, ditches and then with a maneuver straight from a Starsky and Hutch, i finally skidded my car to a halt facing the opposite way at the side of road and then called a couple people to affirm that i was indeed, still alive.

i have been parking my car at the top of the VERY steep hill that is my driveway; otherwise, the tractor will have to pull me out. i love my old Mercedes but it is an absolute sled in this weather. Four wheel spins in 2″ of ice or snow and forget it, i’m crippled. i’ll have to rock out, dig out and have someone push me. This has happened 5 times or so already.

Tonite i amused myself by venturing down the driveway, found myself slipping, attempted to back up, made the loud squirrelly, scratching sounds of tires with no traction, nearly slid into a tree and then into the NO TRESSPASSING sign, and finally made it back out of the driveway and onto flat land where i could park safely. The only reason i was seeing how far i could go is because i have been accumulating heavy items that need to get into the house, but are too cumbersome to carry that far. There is a huge mirror with a wooden frame in my backseat (for three days).

But tonite, the 40lb box of kitty litter had to come in.

i slung my purse over one shoulder, my messenger bag for work over the other, decided the now empty Chick-Fil-A bag i had for dinner could stay, and i hefted the box of kitty litter out in front. i descended the treacherous driveway of white hell slowly. It was dark, cold and the box was slipping out from my gloves. Before it got dicey and i lost my footing, i got this brilliant idea . . . “put the box down and kick it along.” And why not! Everything else was sliding and sure enough, the box of kitty litter careened down the hill like a toboggan, much to my delight! At the bottom of the hill nearer to the stairs i began laughing like an idiot to myself as i pushed the box along like some perverse curling stone, and the thought of THAT sport got me laughing again.

“Kitty litter curling!”

Now if i just had one of those ridiculous brooms . . .

i know i know – i shouldn’t make fun . . . it’s a very old Scottish sport and hey, the oldest Curling Club in the U.S. is the Detroit Curling Club, in my home town, which started playing on Lake St. Clair, in the early 1820′s. Of course, it is those kooky Canadians, who probably are able to subsist on snow, that boast more curlers in total than any other country. But i digress, i don’t care for winter sports . . . skiing is a bit rich for my blood and sledding is a death trap headed for trees and then there’s snowboarding. the idea of strapping myself to any size wooden or otherwise highly polished, waxed synthetic plank is of great consequence to the way my limbs are arranged. Getting in and out of my driveway is sport enough and if i wanted to do any of that, i’d simply hurl myself down it with wild abandon and great style and see how it all turns out.

The groundhog only comes out once a year during mid-winter, and if it gets worse, it may very well require a man in a top hat to pull me out into the snow any time soon . . .

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Dec 19 2004

sweet songs of winter sparrows

Category: dreams,nature,poetry,weatherlittleREDelf @ 8:59 pm

:::

her breasts like birds
that shape upturned
he likes to call sparrows
and “stand there by the window”
narrow, profiled shadow
he commands and clothes like cages
open, free him under the gentle press
of birds upon his feathered chest.
kisses for the small of the back
the foreign curve of hip
on your collarbone she perches
purses her lip and before the rest
can come undone
the sparrows take their leave
in December’s twilight sun.

~ Andrea E. Janda

:::

snowfall. first of the season here. white-throated sparrows gather in bare thickets and dig at the ground by hopping backwards with both feet, scratching at the surface and uncovering food.

i haven’t felt much like eating, though i do like sleeping. something about winter sets me into hibernation. squelches my desire for anything besides warmth and quiet. a grizzly-bear stupor. a need for nuzzled affections and nesting places.

outside the snow drift spackles the window and surprises the spider webs with its glittery gather, hanging under the eaves like pulled out sweater strands. you’ve seen raindrops this way – but have you ever seen snow in a spider’s web?

silvery mists of powder catch the wind – aimless, circling, whispering cyclones. the icicles begin to weep from the edges, long witchy, translucent fingers pointing the way down, showing the snow where to land.

i am scratching at the surface. i am looking for the unknown hunger in the fallen leaf bed. i am sleeping in unlocked dreams. my blanket is snow, the  web is taut, my fingers reach, begin to weep, i set my nest, warm to the affections and look for directions on the place to land

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Nov 30 2004

let. me. clear. my. throat.

Category: friends,poetry,weather,writinglittleREDelf @ 10:16 pm

you know – i am not one to meow meow meow
and my even having to preface it now, you can fully
expect a little hissing, but more, i implore you:

tragic darling dears, get out of your beds,
off your couches, your haunches, your
hands and knees and for fuck’s sake PLEASE
point the camera out the bathroom, the window,
outdoors, out of self-respect, his, hers, mine
the worried cat and dog and yours
take into consideration that we’ve no need
to bear witness to your public bleeding
i have seen every configuration of stocking
stunt-cocking, macro of labial fold
(god DAMN that shit gets OLD . . .)
and your face pulled down into mask of despair
mascara, wings, and blood everywhere
and more tits than i could ever use.

Now, mind you, i like my dark days too,
and these things can be done in 32 flavors
and then some, but it won’t make me come
find you in your self-absorbed hip-o-drome
it’s just more i have to scroll past -
to find actual, breathing, human
photographs.

i believe you – you are real and so are
the rest of the enhanced blanched
oversaturated things you possibly feel
but i’d like to see more of your real life
pooled at your feet, than a pair of your
panties, your bathtub, the Xs & Os the
utter lack of prose and pause and thought
given to the extended forearm-as-tripod
still in the shot and those webcam eyes
so tenderly wrought.

i am not asking you to find/define your depths
i am not trying to damage your emotional
intelligence – i see the dress pattern you
are after, but i’m afraid you’ve dropped a stitch.
i will allow you the feline quality of female
i will ask you, however, to remove your ears
and that silly tail. There is NO pair of
breasts or handcuffs or shoes that will fix
what your expression
and vision
and your camera
will never do
in ultra-uncandid
clicks.

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Feb 28 2004

question mark . . .

Category: dreams,love,nature,photography,poetry,weather,writinglittleREDelf @ 11:58 am

Eastern Comma

woke up from a tangle of dreams
dressing in black for a party
the sounds of a baby crying
and now … the sun full & bright
the snowdrops blooming in the garden
here to stay, and not melting.

i wandered out in my robe,
hair still tangled from sleep
and what should land on me
but a question mark
a butterfly asking me
what i am asking myself . . .
can you?
could you?
will you?
it’s such a lovely day …
and you should, love.

what a lucky girl i am
to know these things:
the warm sun in my face
a melodic song in my mouth
a daunting, haunting love
and always that series
of life’s unending, unrelenting
puzzling, perfect, positive
questions.

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Dec 24 2003

i’m dreaming of a wet Christmas

Category: food,holidays,weather,work & employmentlittleREDelf @ 10:49 pm

and i know how suggestive that sounds
but it’s just too warm here to snow
so we get rain . . . rats

i have to work tonite – Christmas Eve
and so i hope for kind, generous
and conscientious guests who go home
when it’s time so i can spend MY eve
with my family opening gifts
drinking wine, taking pictures,
eating chicken wings
and chilled shrimp and baked brie
and fresh fruit and chocolate
and a BIG RED Cherry Pie!

Merry Christmas
to all of you who celebrate it -
or Happy Solstice if you like it
a little more non-descript
and seasonal.

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Nov 24 2003

Beyond the Harvest

Category: family,food,gardening,humor,music,technology,weatherlittleREDelf @ 8:14 pm

“Now the woods will never tell
What sleeps beneath the trees
Or what’s buried ‘neath a rock
Or hiding in the leaves
‘Cause road kill has its seasons
Just like anything
It’s possums in the autumn
And it’s farm cats in the spring

Now a lady can’t do nothin’
Without folks’ tongues waggin’
Is this blood on the tree
Or is it autumn’s red blaze
When the ground’s soft for diggin’
And the rain will bring all this gloom
There’s nothing wrong with a lady
Drinking alone in her room.”

~ Murder in the Red Barn by Tom Waits

i’ve been thinking. And when i think like this – i go far out beyond fatalistic borders. It’s not a cruel darkness, just one that avoids phonecalls and voicemail and email and fax machines and blenders and microwaves – most forms of digital output and noise.

It’s the kind of thinking that makes you sit in front of sci-fi films for half the afternoon with a bottle of wine, contemplating alternate futures and ultimately deciding there’s no blindingly beautiful promise, no achieved perfection, no immortality, no homogenized version of gender, no egalitarian, peaceful rule meant to blanket the world, no disembodied intelligence – only the regression to a base understanding of what makes one truly human and sentient and in it’s crude but lovely way . . . alive. For a spell.

Never do you grapple with what a production this whole thing is until you do something as simple as say, cooking a small breakfast for yourself. Or more eating and appreciating food. You get out a pan. Not clay, not tin, but some poly-cluster creation with a gleaming handle and Teflon coating bearing a brand name recognizing a long-dead, strong sounding Norse god. A pat of butter to grease it with. No. Not butter, not taken from a cow, churned for hours in wood cut from a pine or hickory tree. Well, not even butter – margarine. And from an evenly sprayed dispenser. You turn on the fire. No. The stovetop. No, not even that – an electrified flat black surface with the pan placed over the approximate round etched size of your pan. It’s hot because water skitters off the surface so you add your egg. From a carton, from some far away chicken you never fed or robbed of its children from under the warm straw nest while it protested. It whitens, sunny side up you cover it to steam and cook faster. And while you wait . . . you get two slices of bread.  Oat Nut. Two things. Several really. Yeast you didn’t produce, oat flour you never milled, nuts you never grew or shelled or chopped. And you turn them into toast in the four-slotted drawer that pulls out of a recess in the wall. And while you wait . . . you’re out of orange juice,  a fruit which you definitely did not grow in this northern climate but you do have apple cider, in a plastic container from a towering orchard you never walked. Somewhere before all of this, you started a pot of coffee.  Not on a kettle nor pressed, but all orchestrated by one machine whose compartments allow for whole beans you never grew under a hot sun or carried by donkey pack up a steep ravine and no need for paper or filters, the mesh basket strains the ground coffee and the receptacle purifies the water of all the chemicals you added to kill the previous undesirable batch you added before which you did not take from the riverbank or pump from underground. And so onto the glass plate you never saw baked with the margarined egg and the oatnut toast and into the deep mug  with the coffee and so to add sugar you never knew as brown cane once harvested by slaves now white and bleached into angelic recognition and something to cream it with . . . some milk.  You’re out of milk.  No cow for that i’m afraid but never you worry, powdered milk to add filtered water to in a cup with measured lines and the unused rest – down the drain because it’s not palatable enough and you’ll never use it in cereal with a glossy protective varnish or cookies with chocolate which is another story altogether. And this is 10 minute preparation. Just breakfast of 2 foods and two beverages, plus condiment. Nothing farmed, all stored in various airtight and plastic refrigeration.

And what’s this to do with the season of harvest and the impending winter? Everything, had you need of preserves and jellies and canning and warm storage and feed for animals. But don’t fret –there’s a 24-hour mega-store when you run out of toilet paper and sundries. Even some carrots for the horses. Hunting season consists for some of avoiding the sprinting deer across the four-lane highway – and you never thought you’d see them here. Possums are as plentiful as pets and just as many wasted, lost and flattened. And all that processed specialty cat chow they’re missing out on.

No. i’m not really disgusted. Not entirely sarcastic. Just incredibly appreciative (and occasionally fearful) of the labor and death that comes from bounty.

And please . . .

don’t ask me about my plans for Thanksgiving.

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