The fog lifts

This here is a 2-pound button mushroom that we grew in our basement:

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I know approximately jack diddly squat about growing these things, and hadn’t wanted to deal with the freak that had been steadily expanding in cubic mass down in the cellar. I grow veggies, of course. Fungi are a mystery.

Thankfully, my wife finally got the gumption to grab the chainsaw herself and cut this thing down. Did you know that these suckers will soak in something like 1,000 I.U.’s of vitamin D in an hour of direct sunlight? That’s what my wife says, and she painted this amazing mural at Love Creamery, so I believe her….

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As for me, I dumped the last dozen briquets from the Kingsford bag into the grill, and fired up some very fine New York strip steaks grown on grass by my friend Amy down in Holyoke. Food grown by friends tastes SO MUCH BETTER than anything else. That’s a fact.

Shawna whipped up something magical from half that single button mushroom, and we had ourselves just about the loveliest impromptu date imaginable out on the patio tonight.

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Birds were singing, and I reckon it was about 65 degrees. No bugs. Perfect.

Our kids, soon to be 14, are suddenly rather independent. Quiet times together happen again every once in a while. I almost forgot what this was like.

Saturday afternoons are wonderful. I sold a couple hundred bucks of microgreens and such at the farmers market today (mediocre, but the new reality given some market saturation through various grocery stores I’m stocking), and sealing myself up in the sensory deprivation chamber afterwards, I crashed for a good hour. Oh my, that silence is priceless. I awoke and washed about 75 trays, a tedious task with the hose made somewhat pleasurable by the music of The Black Crowes in my ears, as I unabashedly shook my hips to the groove a mere 19 feet from my neighbor’s kitchen window.

When all this is done I feel as if I can finally let my hair down. Today’s relaxation was so complete I hardly recognized it. Stress and uncertainty has become the soup du jour of late, as I ponder an impending pivot. A career change. Yes, you heard that right. I’m looking for a traditional job. It’s time.

All that thinking vanished this afternoon as I was awash in the slanting rays of the June sun. Oh me oh my, summer is here at last. Although, I do continue to cover these biceps with long sleeves.

This meal was more pleasurable than anything at a restaurant. Simply perfect. Reminded me about happiness. Joy. Togetherness. Love. Gratitude. At times these things seem in short supply, but I think they’ve been merely obscured. The fog burned off for a while, and I could see. I reckon I’ll need to have faith that this real reality still exists when the fog returns in the days and weeks ahead.

After the meal I disappeared for a few minutes to contact family about something incredible that I might share with you some day. When I returned, Shawna says to me, “I’m gonna go watch Kitchen Nightmares while you clean the kitchen.” Ha ha. Well, ok then.

I stuffed headphones into my ear, and listened further into Leif Enger’s novel, “So Young Brave and Handsome,” about a struggling author. Holy mackerel, do I ever identify with this book so far! I was eager to delve further into the story after visiting with Leif at the farmer’s market today. That conversation was incredibly encouraging.

These past few weeks I’ve been chatting here and there with two prominent authors down at the market, visiting with them as if they were colleagues. Talking shop. So dang encouraging. Fun. This connecting is vital. It’s definitely something I’ve been lacking. Time to course correct.

When I ventured outside to pick up various debris from the finest supper enjoyed by anyone on the planet on June 1, 2019, I opened the door expecting the sounds of birds singing a good night chorus. Instead, I was greeted by silence. Not a whiff of wind. No birds. Not even the sounds of the neighbor kids on the trampoline. Absolute stillness. Silence rose in praise to the heavens. Marvelous peace and tranquility.

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That $7 bottle of wine was purchased at a new liquor store down in the old Falk’s Pharmacy building, a mere half mile from my house.. A gal by the name of Dawn Moran owns the place. Lives up on 52nd Ave. Anyhow, this is the first alcohol you could buy in the neighborhood of Lakeside in over a hundred years. Long story. A couple referendums happened here over the past decade + to introduce spirited drinks. The first one failed by one vote. I voted against it that time. You’re welcome! Haha. Well, the second time I voted for it and there’s a little more to the story that I’ll spare the yawning reader, but I do believe I may have had a back scenes role in the reversal of policy….

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