Driven to Reflection

Tea: Vanilla Jasmine

Music: Jim Croce, "I Got a Name"

Time: Almost midnight.

Sorry I've been away for a while. I'm still sorting the new site and re-sorting out life with daily deadlines. (I used to have them as a journalist. I can get used to it again -- and before long, I will rediscover the benefits of writing several days' worth of work in advance so I don't have to freak out as evening rolls in and I don't have the next day's post written.

I meant to be back last night, but my car had other plans. It died. (I don't think it meant to. It just did.)

The battery worked. The ignition didn't -- not even a click. This had me speaking fluent ARGH, a language composed entirely of those four letters (always capitalized) in varying sequences. To wit: "ARGH! GHRAHHH! RRRRAGHAAAH!" translates roughly as, "Why won't this car start? The batttery's working! Please start, car! I have to pick my son up at the high school ten minutes ago!"

This threw me for several loops. Picture third grade, cursive practice, learning to write the letter "l" in lower case, and you have an idea of the number of loops.

I had places I had to be tonight. The kids had to get to school this morning, and wanted to get to a church activity this evening.

And the car was dead.

If we lived somewhere with decent public transportation, this wouldn't be a problem. But this is the suburbs. It's car country. The buses run in the morning and the evening.

And the car -- the only functional car -- was dead.

I've been trying to cultivate equanimity, to breathe and count my blessings when faced with this sort of thing. And I failed ... miserably.

I let myself be wrung out by circumstances, to the point where I had no energy left for anything but dragging myself to bed.

And you know what?

It wasn't as bad as it seemed.

The kids got where they needed to go. The problem turned out to be a blown fuse, not a dead starter. Help came from several directions.

And the car is no longer dead.

There's a lesson in here for me, if I'm smart enough to learn it. If I claim to believe that my daily needs (and those of my family) will be provided for, then I'd better start acting like it.

Hello ... Hello Again

Tea: Chinese Melon Seed

Music: Bob Walkenhorst, "Life Can Turn"

Time: Evening.

Yeah, I thought about the Cars song, but it seemed way too cliche.

So ... let's try this again. I stink at keeping anything up day to day, but here goes.

Since I last blathered at you, here are some things that happened:

I had a photo show end because Nighthawks -- my home away from home -- closed. I'm still a bit shell-shocked, two weeks later. Probably will be for some time to come. The regulars there were a family ... here's hoping we don't lose touch.

I ate the best duck I've ever had at The Vineyards in Weston, Missouri, and tried -- and loved -- sturgeon the next night at Justus Drugstore in Smithville (also Missouri).

I blew the water pump on the Ford. It still isn't fixed. Heck of a big paperweight, that car.

I've seen fire and I've seen rain ... no, wait. That's James Taylor.

Anyway. I'm not going to play catch-up. Too much gone by for that. But I'll try to do better at checking in each day.

Stay tuned.

Cup XXXIV: I Can Has Monkey Wrenches?

Tea: Earl Grey Smokey

Music: Trey Gunn Band, "Killing for London"

Time: Night of a lonnnnng day.

Much to and fro -- on foot, on wheels, in words.

No room at many inns.

This is me.

But there was bacon today. And bacon rocks.

Tonight's story:

John Kendrick Bangs, "The Water Ghost of Harrowby Hall"

Cup XXXIII: Agley (but That's Okay)

Tea: Spring Sprouting Jade

Song: Christian Langer, "Moonchild"

Time: Night

This was not the day I thought I would have. I had anticipated being out on the road with friend/collaborator/fellow traveler Seánan Forbes, who arrived today from New York. I had envisioned being here or here, possibly both, doing research for travel/food writing.

Instead, a more than minor glitch with one of the two family cars kept the two of us in the Kansas City metro area.

But you know what? We went here for lunch (yes, the same place from the first Foodspedition) and discovered new tastes (and new combinations thereof). We shared chocolate and conversation here and here. And there were fortune cookie moments, one of them leading to surprised delight on the part of a promising young writer, and they were good.

All of it was good. Better than.

Funny how things work out that way sometimes.

Tonight's story:

Eleanor F. Lewis, "The Vengeance of a Tree"