Red's Wrap
Happiness. It's relative.
Scratchy Sheets Friday Round-Up
I have a bum knee and it’s added years to my already astronomical age. I wear a brace – the one I bought for $3.18 at the Mitchell, South Dakota, Walmart – so I have that look of an athlete, albeit an aging one. It’s satisfying to think spectators might think I injured myself doing some sport. What happened was I turned a hair too fast to go into a bathroom stall in a gas station somewhere out West, a massive area but I’d know the station if I saw it, the knee irks me that much.
I’m fed up with pajamas. Can somebody make women’s pajamas that aren’t crazy-making? My husband stopped wearing pajamas when he was eight and listening to the Phillies games on his transistor radio buried under twenty blankets. Me? I must have pajamas. I don’t know why. But it’s like why do I keep wanting something that doesn’t want me? My pajamas hate my guts. That much is clear.
The news is hideous in every direction. Heartbreaking, disturbing, and cruel. Cable commentators have run out of adjectives so they’ve taken to delivering their analyses in larger and larger capital letters. The only exception to this is the work of the January 6th Committee which is masterful, focused, and patriotic in the finest sense. America’s finest.
This is the year that I have completely detached from growing things. I have divorced my garden. I am talking to a landscaper about redoing the side yard into a zero maintenance green space, but meanwhile I watch giant, thorny weeds make their climb to the sky. And I don’t care. The compulsion to pull them, to fix my garden, to bemoan the state of my soil, all of that, it’s gone, evaporated like heavy sweat in front of an industrial fan. Maybe I have my knee to thank for the break-up but that was just the last straw. Me and my garden – we’ve been growing apart for years.
My favorite thing is watching Chef Jacques Pepin two-minute cooking videos in which he cooks everything in a small saute pan using olive oil and butter. Today I watched him cut a zucchini into ribbons which he then sauteed to make a bed for, yes, a single sauteed chicken breast sliced paper thin with shallots and chives for garnish. He is always smiling when he cooks and has a towel over his shoulder. Chef Jacques is also a painter. I love him.
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Listen to Jan read her essay “Billy” presented on WUWM’s Lake Effect
Jan’s essay “At the Breakfast Bar” on WUWM Lake Effect
Jan’s essay “The Parish Hall,” on WUWM Lake Effect May 27, 2020
“Fury Cannot Touch Me,” Modern Love, NYT, 9/29/11
Red's Wrap 
I could eat that right now! XXX
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Well I love this post!
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Good! I’m glad. 🙂
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