||[Oct. 1st, 2017|09:00 pm]
So off I went to the markets and squandered sums of money. I bought more than I'd intended, as a couple of previously unannounced bargains turned up at one of the stores, and I also decided to get some things that are about to get more costly, and also to splurge on a couple of things that weren't on sale. This means I'll have a couple of things I won't have to buy later in the month, and I hope the savings from those things and from the unexpected bargains will offset the damage the items I splurged on will do to my budget. |
The good news is I get lasagna one night this week. The bad news is that they were out of the variety of beer I intended to buy. News that might be either good or bad is that I got a five pound bag of grits, for less than a buck. Cheaper than ramen! But I've actually never had grits before, and don't know if I'll like it (them?) or not, and having never prepared them (it?) I have no idea if I'll be able to do it right. But the bag was cheap, and I figured that since the Confederacy now controls the Presidency, both Houses of Congress, and the Supreme Court, I should probably get used to eating grits.
As for the weather, it's cooling off a bit and I had to close the windows not long after I got back from the stores. The furnace actually came of early this morning, and tonight is supposed to be cooler than last night, as will the subsequent two nights, so I'm probably looking at several hours of furnace activity over the next few days. After that it should warm up for at least a few days, so maybe I won't go broke burning gas this month.
Oh, and it's predicted to get windy hereabouts until Tuesday evening, and the air is very dry, so there is a critical fire danger warning in effect. If it looks like the place is going to burn down, I'm eating that lasagna first.
by Les Murray
Sleeping-bagged in a duplex wing
with fleas, in rock-cleft or building
radar bats are darkness in miniature,
their whole face one tufty crinkled ear
with weak eyes, fine teeth bared to sing.
Few are vampires. None flit through the mirror.
Where they flutter at evening's a queer
tonal hunting zone above highest C.
Insect prey at the peak of our hearing
drone re to their detailing tee:
ah, eyrie-ire, aero hour, eh?
O'er our ur-area (our era aye
ere your raw row) we air our array,
err, yaw, row wry - aura our orrery,
our eerie ü our ray, our arrow.
A rare ear, our aery Yahweh.