I believe I just had my first x-rated blog response. Broken English. An invitation to become Juicy SomebodyorOther's good friend by viewing his blog. I didn't. I'm too old for juicy. Probably in every sense of the phrase. This is an aspect of blogging that seems so predictable in hindsight but until this evening never occurred to me. I guess there isn't a good blog-spam blocker out there????
Today was ruled by bugs. Ants with wings. I discovered them a week or so ago in the basement when I embarked on throwing out the last (tax) records of the Map & Legend. I opened a file box and — a la a good horror flick — out scrambled several dozen of these ants, all running helter skelter, as hysterical to find themselves suddenly thrust into the light as I was to have them pop out when I striped the box lid off. Carpenter ants they turned out to be. Not as bad as termites but not a welcome guest either.
The bug-killer came this morning. A wiry little guy who looked...well...like he's breathed in too many poisonous fumes over a lengthy career as an exterminator. We had to be out of the house from 11 until 3. That's a long time to hang out in sweltering temps with a dog. No going to the (air-conditioned) movies for us, oh no. Instead we had a meeting with our might-be builder who wanted to encourage us not to give up our quest for approval to build next door. Listening to his earnest support, I have to confess I morphed from secretly wanting to continue to not trusting the process at all, slipping from fury to eroded resolve. As you might guess, this was contrary to his intent.
At 3:30, after running a series of concocted errands, we returned to Chez Funkhouser. I expected the house to smell. It didn't. But there were many carcasses, little bug feet thrust heavenward, on the basement floor. Clearly the stuff works.
I believe I will sleep with a surgical mask in place tonight.
Truffle: Although neither was 'the best,' today's truffle is the first summer tomato/corn on the cob combo. The coveted meal we spend ten months awaiting. Today was the beginning. Let the basil lie down in mozzarella and the butter drip languidly off the cob for at least eight weeks to come.
Quote of the day: "Sex is good, but not as good as fresh, sweet corn." (Garrison Keillor)