Ah, it’s only been 10 months. I thought my vacation would have lasted longer.
I needed to post this. For no other reason than I found it to be enjoyable.
That is all.
So I was reading tonite, Kate went to bed early, reading tonite in the basement with some music playing softly, but not so softly that I couldn’t recognize what was playing, and I just sat down at the computer to take note of what I just finished reading, I’ll tell you about it sometime, if you ask, it’s in the sidebar, under “Greene”, and I noticed that the song, singular, song had been repeated 45 times, as I’d inadvertently left iTunes on single-track repeat.
I’m one who would usually notice something like that, or maybe I’m not.
The end.
Here is nothing ponderous, nothing, at the surface, but the temporal and fleshly, the eat-drink-and-be-merrily: I love blood oranges.
You may have seen them used before, somewhere, probably on an Iron Chef, probably garnished with sea urchin roe or alongside sepia-stained noodles, and most assuredly topped with a paper-thin slice of black truffle. Instantly, your eye is drawn to the color. On the surface, a common orange, but opened (in typical Iron Chef ginsu-fashion) its bloody flesh glares at you like a wound, your mind reeling, attempting to imagine what kind of demoniac tree might have borne such hideous offspring.
You wonder, does it taste like an orange? Blood? Smell? Is it warm? Does it have a pulse? The answers: Yes, mostly. No. Orange. Can be. No.
I’m not sure if I was lucky with my purchase, or if they all taste this good. They’re very sweet, for oranges, and they have a slight berry taste, which comes from the anthocyanin (typically found in red berries and flowers). Hence the color. And the name.
Oh, and the name. Some of the more timid grocers (read: those who actually want to sell them) mark them as Moro Oranges. That is, I guess, their name. But that doesn’t really capture it at all.
As for them, whether they hear or whether they refuse—for they are a rebellious house—yet they will know that a prophet has been among them.
“And you, son of man, do not be afraid of them nor be afraid of their words, though briers and thorns are with you and you dwell among scorpions; do not be afraid of their words or dismayed by their looks, though they are a rebellious house. You shall speak My words to them, whether they hear or whether they refuse, for they are rebellious. But you, son of man, hear what I say to you. Do not be rebellious like that rebellious house; open your mouth and eat what I give you.”
...
For you are not sent to a people of unfamiliar speech and of hard language, but to the house of Israel, not to many people of unfamiliar speech and of hard language, whose words you cannot understand. Surely, had I sent you to them, they would have listened to you. But the house of Israel will not listen to you, because they will not listen to Me; for all the house of Israel are impudent and hard-hearted.
Ezekiel 2:5-8, 3:5-7
There have been some very minor changes since the last time I posted. We now live in South Dakota, I’ve got a new job (doing the same thing), and I cut off about a third of my left middle fingernail.
That about covers it. Questions?
You’d think with all that activity that I’d have something insightful to pass along, some profound spiritual meditation, or some entertaining diversion. Truth be told, there’s been far too much going on for anything to have taken place.
If you still need your amusement fix, try tracking Dan tracking deer. Meta-hunting.