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October 23, 2024: Blahity Blaah

Every night (now I write in the evenings), I respond to my call to fame, by writing 500 words, no less, sometimes more. I figure this is a good length for a dispatch, any less readers feel cheated; any more, they feel bored.

I may still have a reader or two out there. I don’t know. I could not keep my sister Eleanor’s attention, so in some ways, I see this as a failed endeavor. And so often I think, if I was a three-dimensional artist, I’d most likely get paid for my work. I do not get paid for writing dispatches or essays.

I do not get paid for my ongoing work on the book project, either. Pete pays my cost-of-living bills. I am lucky this way although I wish it was the other way around. I suspect that like most guys, he’d chaff if, suddenly, I had an income and he did not. This is not the way it’s supposed to be. Men bring home the bacon. Women cook it.


We will not go into my lack of cooking abilities. We have this state-of-the-art convection oven – it stands out in our now very funky kitchen, one that appears to have seen a lot of use. The wood walls are stained from water leaks and the cabinet drawers show signs of wear. And yet, in the middle of it all is this high-tech stove.

You’d think that having this state-of-the-art stove would motivate me to cook. Yes, this is what you’d think. You who are never wrong, are wrong this time.

I can heat water with the best of them, and this is what I do so well.

The reason for this – Pete got into the habit of cooking, and I got out of the habit. I say this happened when I was in graduate school because it makes me sound like I was, and still am, intellectually industrious.

I make one meal, and this is lentil soup. I know what ingredients go into the pot and most of the time where they are. However, the last few times that I’ve made lentil soup, it’s tasted like dish water. I haven’t figured out why this is.

I liked living in Milwaukee, Wisconsin because there were so many good places to eat. I was not lacking for food when Pete was then in South Carolina, working on his master’s degree. I could get up late if I felt like it, hop on my bicycle, and go just about anywhere and get a meal if I was hungry.

I also miss riding my bicycle. Can’t commute here. It’s too far to town. I tried doing this when I first got here –Pete dropped me off at the orthodontists in Wasilla and there I learned that my appointment had been cancelled. It took me five hours to get home. And the roads were not conducive to bicycle travel.

Blahity Blah. Another traipse down memory lane.

Next: 289. 10/24/24: Joy

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