God. . . I wish I had taken that photo. Sarah Moon, one of my favorite photographers, did. Only her photo is in black and white. Not quite. It is the color of old Polaroid 55 P/N film. I hand colored it years ago. Then I posted it. Then it began to make its rounds on the internet. I don't think people knew what I had done. It is a great job, I think, better than the original. I should be paid for my work but I'm more likely to be sued. But I love the photograph--especially my criminal version.
I can't believe it is Thanksgiving. Nope. Though the weather took a turn yesterday. It is c-o-l-d in the Sunshine State. Whenever it dips into the forties here, it is cold. The weather does, however, make it seem like the holidays. You can never tell about the weather here in November. It could be ninety in a few days time. Today, though, the dogs will be frisky.
Poor Kit-Kat. She will suffer another winter outdoors just as she suffers summers. As she has for years. Of course it is o.k. That is what animals do. But I can tell she is getting older. She sits by my kitchen door often now. She can feel the air, I guess, and smell the food. Silly girl.
That old story about the wolf at the door. It's the young ones that turn their nose up at free food and a warm bed at the cost of liberty. The old ones think about it a bit more, I'd imagine, though it probably depends on who is offering.
So, feeling frisky myself, I did extra minutes extra hard on the treadmill, bike, and elliptical at the gym. Don't worry. It was not Olympian. I'm still working my way back from Covid. But it was a good workout. After showering, I headed out for lunch. I don't go much any more, but you know, with the weather and all. . . . But like every social media idiot, my food wouldn't have been as good if I did not share photos of it. Why? Beats me, other than my photos are spectacular.
If you see dear Mrs. Equitone,
Tell her I bring the horoscope myself:
One must be so careful these days.
I tried to find a version on the internet I could send to my friends, but there wasn't one. What to do? Well. . . here it is. What a song. I listened to it about a hundred times. I am listening to it now. The Haden Triplets. My god. . . they are more than great. They are practically immortal. If you want more. . . (link).
With the wine and the whiskey and the long afternoon nap, I got manic and stayed up too late. One hit off the peace pipe to settle me down. . . and a good night's sleep.
I woke with the sun. When I got up to start the coffee pot, both cats were waiting on the deck. Shit! What to do? I got an egg and cracked it into a bowl. I poured in a little milk and whipped them up like I was making scrambled eggs. I put the concoction in the microwave for thirty seconds. Some solids had just begun to form. I whipped it more to make sure it was cooled down and took it out. Once again, the neighbor's cat looked stunned. Nothing for him? Meanwhile, Kit-Kat went at the egg and milk combo with a real gusto. I guess she was hungry after a cold night.
I feel fine this morning. I don't know what went wrong yesterday. Maybe I have Long Covid. It could be. Whatever it was, it hit me like a wrecking ball. But drink and music and a good night's sleep has brought me back to life. At least for now. But as you well know, if not. . . well, there's always tomorrow.