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those aren't jalapeños
Thursday, August 2 2018
Gretchen and I had plans to meet up with our friends Erica and Justin with our dogs at Big Deep, and on the way we convoyed in both cars so we could drop the Prius off at Van Kleek's Tire in Lake Katrine to have its grinding brakes fixed. (Van Kleeks is the mainstream auto repair place Gretchen has found for our car repair needs. Unlike other mainstream auto repair places, they're affordable and not shysters.) When we met Erica and Justin, they had two dogs, a 45 black and white mutt named Luke and a little dog who looked like Yoda named Harry. Justin had a place in mind already for where we should try swimming, but recent rains had swollen and muddied Sawkill Creek and the current was too strong there. To get to a better place required ignoring some no trespassing signs, which weren't going to stop Gretchen. But they clearly made Justin uncomfortable. Had he grown up already? Where was the skate punk he used to be? Gretchen ignored his concerns and marched past the signs. "Behold, Gretchen in her natural habitat!" I declared. Erica and I followed and Justin reluctantly joined us. We only had to trespass through about 100 feet of backyard before we were back on public land again.
Eventually we found a rocky outcrop that served as a beach, and that was where we set up. Justin kept snapping pictures and capturing video clips with his phone in a way that vaguely annoyed Gretchen (as in, "Why not just live in the moment and not try to document it?"). But, as Erica pointed out, Justin is technically a Millennial. He's near the beginning of that generation, and we all know what they're like.
Before long, both Justin and Gretchen had dove into the churning water, which was opaque like thin coffee. They found the water cold and the current demanding, though Gretchen thought this made it all more fun. Eventually Erica jumped in too, but I could never bring myself to wade in to where the water was half way up my thigh. Part of the problem was the distraction of our dogs, who were clearly bored and looking for things to do (though both of them had taken turns swimming in the raging water). Erica and Justin's dogs, on the other hand, weren't a concern at all; they apparently can't be trusted at all off leash, so they were tied up to a fallen tree.
When I saw our dogs run off up the hill to the place we'd trespassed, I worried they'd get into some mischief, so I went after them. But I couldn't find them. Somehow they'd circled back through the woods and returned to the swimming hole without anyone seeing how.
The eight of us (four dogs and four humans) then did an early lupper at the Garden Café. I ordered my "new usual," the normally-bland burrito with jalapeños added to make it more exciting. Somehow, though, quality was a bit off today and the pepper-like things in my burrito tasted like bits of bell pepper. Perhaps a Hispanic cook had thought he could fool a gringo, but he picked the wrong gringo. Even for me, it was was an unusually alcoholic meal at the Garden, mostly because Justin raised the bar by ordering three Southern Tier 2X IPAs (which are 8.2% alcohol). I only had two beers, but they were Ommegang Abey Ales, which are also 8.2% alcohol. At some point in the meal, Justin told his origin story, which was unexpected. It turned out that he'd started out as a theatre major and then pursued medicine when it turned out that he exceled at it. I think I missed the part where he became veterinarian.
After lupper, Gretchen and I returned to Van Kleek's to pick up the car. Both rear brakes had been redone, complete with new rotors, and it had somehow cost less than $300, which seemed like a bargain to me. (I remember, back in late 90s or early aughts, Bathtubgirl taking her Volvo to some shyster auto repair place in Southern California multiple times to have its brakes fixed, and every time they found a way to charge her nearly $1000 per visit.)
This afternoon, Mich&æl (of Carrie & Mich&æl) came by to check out the new screened-in porch. He'd brought a pint of some sort of mildly-sour fruit beer, which Gretchen split into three 5.333333 ounce glasses for us to carry down to the basement. It was crisp and refreshing, though more like wine than a beer. Though there was no furniture aside from a ball chair, the porch was a very pleasant place to sit and socialize. No insects bothered us, and when I turned on the fan, conditions were nearly perfect for human life. I can't even imagine how great it will be once it has comfortable seating.
Gretchen and Mich&æl walked the dogs in the forest and, soon after they returned, I went off to the laboratory to join the diaspora happy hour. At some point in that happy hour Nicole asked what we should call it, since it was no longer a Mercy For Animals things. So I defined "diaspora." Tonight it lasted for a record five and a half hours. Well, that was when I left. Others might've stayed longer.
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