Soup

Hi all! It’s been a few days – a few busy, busy days.  I can’t hope to cover it all, so instead –

Let me tell you about seeing my dad.  TJ and I met him at the sushi place next to his usual hotel.  We knew he was there by the smart white-and-red Ducati out front.  After searching in the booming-loud restaurant, we find him at a table outside.

“It’s cold in there! This is nice.”

The whites of his eyes are the color of cream of chicken soup.  Jet-lag had him restless, so when he woke up at 3 am that morning, what else could he do but start driving?

All three of us wore palettes of stress.  Dad’s yellow eyes, face rhubarb red and weary blue.  TJ’s blush-and-yellow washed with charcoal under the eyes, blue veins underneath.  Me, with black under my eye-bags, arms splashed in putrid reds and yellows after a poison ivy encounter.

It was a quiet meal.  No loving hugs.  No running at the mouth.  We talked about our food – soup too spicy, seasonings too strange – and discussed a new way to get me to Iowa.  My dad’s brother’s in a bad way, and it’s time to get everyone together in case things get worse.

We managed a formal handshake as we went our separate ways.  We’d covered the basics – Dad’s family, our family, the house, the dog, all our varied projects.

Last night, I replaced the thermocouple on the water heater.  This is after several tries over several days, and more cold showers than I’d like to remember.  You know, the kind where you stand far back and gently dip your body regions into the stream one at a time, and call that “good enough”.  This was my first attempt at anything related to gas, so I was concerned about screwing it up.  The house is still here, so I’m calling it a victory.

That’s all for now! With a lot of projects coming to a head (such as the Night of the Living Podcast’s flash horror contest, to which I submitted tonight), blogging hasn’t been high on the list.  I haven’t forgotten you, though.  I’ll be around!



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