Saturday in CinCity. The Pickled Edition.
A friend at work told me yesterday that her attempt at pickling was "disgusting", but I'm in a mood for disgusting so that works out just fine. A little NPR on the radio so I can get caught up on the week's news and I'm a happy girl.
We're a one car family now which will take some adjustment and I guess some forethought and planning. Painful. CollegeGrrrrl came to the conclusion that a car payment on top of rent and school was a little too much, so she sold her car and has taken our hand-me-down car that was supposed to be HoneyHaired's before her wreck scared her away from driving and was actually my MIL's. I reckon we'll get greener and save the earth one way or the other. I still however refuse to walk to work at 5:30 in the morning per Hubby's suggestion. Crazy old man.
The Ordinary Weather of Summer
by Linda Pastan
In the ordinary weather of summer
with storms rumbling from west to east
like so many freight trains hauling
their cargo of heat and rain,
the dogs sprawl on the back steps, panting,
insects assemble at every window,
and we quarrel again, bombarding
each other with small grievances,
our tempers flashing on and off
in bursts of heat lightning.
In the cooler air of morning,
we drink our coffee amicably enough
and walk down to the sea
which seems to tremble with meaning
and into which we plunge again and again.
The days continue hot.
At dusk the shadows are as blue
as the lips of the children stained
with berries or with the chill
of too much swimming.
So we move another summer closer
to our last summer together—
a time as real and implacable as the sea
out of which we come walking
on wobbly legs as if for the first time,
drying ourselves with rough towels,
shaking the water out of our blinded eyes.
please note: photos by HoneyHaired and me. And, my husband is not really a giant, though we tell him he is.