Senses askew. Echoes. Pleasures of food.
I have a favorite pair of boots that I've worn for the last 13 years. The tread is getting paper-thin in spots. You can read the uneven wear and how I roll my foot to the outside. They were a gift from Liz, the mother of a guy I dated for a while, and they were far more expensive than any other pair I owned. I went yesterday to see if they could be repaired - I took them to a little shop down the street from my work.The guy at the counter sadly shook his head - they are very narrow soles, and he couldn't get anything small enough that would work. As he leaned forward to talk to me, I caught a smell wafting off him. He smelled exactly like a sleepy cat. I know that seems oddly specific, and it really is. Freshly groomed, curled up and warm, stretching out just as the cat waked up.... it is a distinctive smell. I kept that thought to myself - I have to know someone pretty well before I'll share that they smell like a drowsy kitten.I left there and drove to the library to return books (on time, for once!) and pick up a couple more I had on reserve. I love my local library - it is a neat, old-fashioned little place with lovely landscaping around the perimeter. There is a short set of marble stairs inside the door, and it is always a-buzz with activity. I overhear several languages on any given day. As I was walking back out, two young men were walking upstairs from the basement. They have classrooms down there, adding to the level of activity. As the men passed me, they smelled like my brother's apartment in Lexington. Specifically, they smelled like his apartment in summer - even with the window air conditioning unit going full blast, you could smell the wood in the old building, heated in the eaves. I was transported back to that place - crawling out a window in the kitchen to access the porch roof so we could pick mulberries and drink with lemon juice and sugar. It also smelled of cooking spices and linseed oil, candle wax and nag champa incense. I never knew that apartment had such a distinctive smell until I passed those men on the stairs.I drove home, slightly rattled by whatever olfactory phenomenon I was experiencing. Mick greeted me and I headed to the kitchen to start dinner. I eyeballed the proportions of chicken broth to wild rice, thinly sliced a couple of onions and a half pound of shiitake mushrooms. Chicken thighs went on top, with a sprinkling of sea salt and smoked paprika. I bought a large quantity of mushrooms the other day from a local grower - we met in a grocery store parking lot. I got three pounds each of shiitake and I put the covered dish in the oven to bake, Mick & I got a drink and headed to the back porch to enjoy the early promise of spring and warm weather. Gypsi joined us out there and Wasabi cried pitifully from the kitchen. I feel badly that he has to stay in, but he can't start going outside until after he is neutered (TWO MORE WEEKS!!). We sat outside and talked about the house and repairs we're doing, ways to work to afford our lifestyle without chaining me to a cube farm, and our upcoming week. There is a festival this weekend that I realized he really wants to attend. He wasn't going to go so he could accompany me to a friend's birthday party out of town. The festival is - a celebration of Hunter S. Thompson. Mick considers him one of his great influences, both as a writer & journalism, and philosophically. When I realized how much it meant to him, I insisted that he stay here to attend it. I'd love to accompany him, but I want to be there for Ann's birthday. I told him plainly that it is okay that we do separate things that day.There are certain areas of our life that are filled with echoes from exes. For him, his ex would get anxious if she couldn't reach him at all times, so he started carrying a cell phone and rarely did anything by himself. My ex had control issues and never wanted me to do anything by myself because it was "dangerous." I still have problems unloading a grocery cart onto the checkout without excessive anxiety that I am "doing it wrong." When we approach an area that I am aware holds a lot of baggage, I speak to Mick differently. I use direct, plain language and almost over-explain what I'm thinking. We agree that it won't always be like that but for now, it helps us both feel more comfortable. We headed back inside to uncover the dish and let it brown on top. I sautéed a pound of kale in a little olive oil & garlic, served it with finely grated Asiago cheese on top. We ate with great gusto, finishing the meal with cherry sorbet and dark chocolate chips. We tried to watch a movie but both dozed off before it was done - a nearly ideal way to spend a Monday night. I half-listen to people talking about "eating clean" but I am not too concerned about it. We don't eat much processed food. If I want to bake a loaf of white bread sometimes or sprinkle sour early strawberries with sugar, I am comfortable doing that once in a while. I do pay attention to what we're eating, and I mostly buy foods that have a very short list of ingredients. I enjoy food tasting like FOOD - not a chemical wash laden with salt and sugar. Neither of us drink soft drinks on a regular basis - maybe once a month we'll have an orange soda or an We're both heavy folks, but we still eat really well. I've tried to change my relationship with food so it isn't the end-all, be-all comfort for me. It will always be a struggle, I suspect, but I am always aware. Tonight is our standing weekly dinner with my folks - we'll likely go out to eat. I prefer when Mom cooks - our tastes run much the same toward simple foods accompanied by savory pickles & relishes & chow chows. One of my favorite meals she makes consists of soup beans, wilted spinach, corn bread and this squash relish my cousin makes. (Darn, now I'm drooling just thinking about it.) She doesn't make her beans with pork anymore, but she still makes that wonderful cornbread from scratch. We catch up on what has happened over the last week, share family gossip and nearly always swap bags full of stuff. Egg cartons for them to take to the Amish from me, 2 dozen fresh eggs for them. A jar of homemade jam from me, empty jars from them. Dad and Mick argue politics good-naturedly, and we talk about travel plans and home repairs. I really treasure these dinners with them, and I am happy that Mick enjoys spending time with them, too.
Metaxalion's mane mushrooms.GonzofestAle-8.