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self-feeding attempt
Tuesday, March 11 2003
Grudgingly, the snow pack that has obscured the ground since early December is melting away. There is a ground under there after all, a sad dead brown blanket of hopelessness. If there is evidence of spring, it isn't on the soil revealed in the retreat of the glaciers. There are robins though, and they're not even wearing their drab winter plummage. I saw a male robin about a week ago and he looked as starched and dapper as one you'd see bounding around tugging worms after a thunderstorm in July.
This evening after a day spent setting up music and digital electronics workstations in different corners of my laboratory, I went down to the kitchen to try to scare up something to eat. There wasn't much except for some minestrone soup. To this I added shredded bits of soft corn tacos - and the combination was about as good as you'd think - which would be not very.
Later when Gretchen came home she invited me to go out with her to the Hurley Mountain Inn for dinner and beers, where we'd be meeting up with Katie and Mary. Given the sorry success of my earlier self-feeding attempt, I was quick to accept. But once we were all together at the bar it seemed that maybe the invitation I'd been extended was one of those polite ones that I'd normally be expected to decline, that this was one of those girls' night out type of things. I'm sure Gretchen would tell me this feeling was unfounded, but it seemed I had very little to contribute to the conversation.
At some point in the meal Mary lost her ring in her beer and then forgot about it until we were leaving. Too late - that glass had already been taken back to the dishwasher. With the help of what seemed like the full management and kitchen staff, we searched the racks and slop buckets thoroughly, but it was all in vain.
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