One Last Salmon
Saturday. It was in the low nineties yesterday, I thought I'd mention that. Yes, yes, hardly a record, hardly anything to write about let alone whine about, but I thought I'd mention it. A good day to stay inside, futz with the computer and drink a little wine. Wine and whine. When I one day stumble across whatever it is that gives me my comic book super powers, I'm going to have W.W. on the chest in purple letters, not to ape Wonder Wart Hog, the one favorite super-character of my college days, but, well, you'll now understand.
Wonder Wart Hog?
There are maybe three people in the world who've ever read this journal who remember Wonder Wart Hog, but they remember him well.
It is now, by the way, early Saturday morning and they're saying the day will be much like these last few days with the temperatures up there in the nineties. So I've closed all the doors and windows left open last night with the hope of trapping some of this cooler air, make it last a bit longer before the inevitable. It is now close to nine, a little late to be going to my usual breakfast place, as it will be quite crowded, but I'll probably go later when I drop off some things at the post office.
Somewhat more than a hour later now after breakfast and the paper, the fan playing air over my body. M & S are having a party this afternoon and I need to pick up some decent cheese to contribute in addition to my ever so smiling face, pleasing personality and camera. People are always happy to see my smiling face and go just ballistic with joy when they see my camera. No, really. Denial is survival in a world where survival is everything.
Where's that coming from?
Oh, who knows, it's early afternoon now, the temperature is unpleasant and I'm getting ready to swing by the Rockridge market to pick up the cheese and head over to El Cerrito. It is overly warm and humid, but no worse than yesterday.
Later. It's after eight, it's still warm here in the apartment, but the temperature is coming down and I'm looking forward to the morning. M & S's house up on the El Cerrito hills had a nice breeze and sitting out eating under the trees was more than civilized, the timing of the entire thing such that we were ready to wrap up in time for me to get back here and watch my Japanese soaps. Good for me.
Oh, and I did bring the cheese, stopping by the market building next to the BART station in Rockridge. When I was in the wine business I learned a little about cooking and cheese, you pretty much have to if you're hawking wine, and I thought I at least knew enough to make a selection. Has it been that long? Why didn't I recognize any of the names? Expensive as hell, but a good cheese always is. Still, a half dozen cheeses with unrecognizable names, some good Russian beer brought by D and A (dna) up from San Jose, Mr. E broiling salmon. Probably the last remaining salmon, from what I'm reading in the papers, but a good one last salmon. There in El Cerrito.