TOOTLING PROSPECTS

There are times when you wake up that you realize maybe you added too much sambal to your meal the evening before. For instance, if it was rice stick noodles with slivered porky bits salted vegetable, addition of pressed pickled mustard cabbage root. All of it fry-stewed with a little onion-scallion-ginger. What happens then is that the rice stick noodles, being easy on the digestion, disappear first. Leaving the stomach to deal with protein saturated with chili.
Okay?

梅菜肉絲炆米粉
['mui choi yiuk si man mai fan']

Should have had more vegetables.
And perhaps some cucumber.
Still a bit achy.

But it was a very enjoyable dinner, and the walk afterwards through C'town while the heat of the day lessened was glorious. Saw several disturbed individuals near the square, one of them vocalizing obscenities, another with his trousers down near mid-thigh leaving his plumber's bits and more completely exposed.
Of which he was quite unaware.

One of the elderly gin-rummy players puffed occasionally on a bamboo waterpipe. I have noticed him many times before. He's a regular. And that is a handsome piece of peasant smoking equipment he has. I myself sported a Dunhill billiard group four, and I'm sure my tobacco would have been too mild for him.

The painting above does NOT represent Portsmouth Square Park, or plumber's bits, but what my digestive machinery feels like at present: craggy. With weather.
And please do not try to imagine it, it will strain you.
That's why there is a picture.

If you wish to imagine the Bersaglieri trotting through an ancient Italian city tootling their trumpets as the soundtrack, that's entirely up to you.


It's going to be a good day. Not as hot as yesterday, shirtsleeves for most of it.
Might even be overcoat weather in the evening.



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