Wait wait- I have found the very best knuckle tattoo. The very best combination of 8 letters that exists, anywhere. It came to me today, while riding my bike home from a friend’s, where I’d eaten an incredible meal of
-smallish crab plucked from the puget sound by one friend, red in color, boiled and cracked and picked of meat
-chicken of the woods mushroom (“The ‘chicken of the woods’ mushroom has no poisonous look-alikes, but is itself sometimes poisonous”) gathered by another friend, in the forest nearby, cut into small pieces and fried in butter and rice vinegar
-green beans from the garden, a little tough, but delicious steamed and served with balsamic and olive oil, salt and pepper,
-apple pie made with apples from the old orchard, very tart
-dryer’s ice cream from the corner store.
on my way home the sky was a dazzling purple-blue, bright with electric lights. It felt so good to be on my bike, to be rolling over the surface of the earth. And it felt so good to eat a meal, with friends, new and old- no less a meal that was almost entirely either grown or wildcrafted by someone at the dinner. And no-one even planned it that way! And the ice-cream? Hey! As far as I’m concerned, dreyer’s ice-cream comes from the corner store. Crappy ice-cream is born in corner stores. It grows there, like stalagmites, inside the soda fountain. I’m sure.
And this is how I really feel-