Quiet day. Rain-filled.
A measure of peace, and solitude.
It felt good to clean the house today. I’d not been attending to it the last few weeks. I don’t know what happens to me. I’m like a television that only gets one channel. If the cooking channel is on, you ain’t watchin’ nothin’ else.
Right now it’s the Drinking Channel marathon.
Speaking of which.
Dinner is Bittman’s Spanish Tortilla, via Bobby Flay and yours truly.
Roasted pasillas and garlic and fried potatoes and onions and lots and lots of free-range eggs and salt and pepper and roasted poblano mother-sauce. And a small salad of bitter greens with a lemon-balsamic vinaigrette.
Add a tiny loaf of crusty bread.
Add a bottle of red wine.
While watching a documentary on India. And after, reading Patricia Churchland’s book on the neurological basis of ethics and morality.
Maybe I can work in some gunfighting and artwork in there somewhere.