WELL NO WONDER IT'S COLD

This doesn't feel like May. It didn't yesterday either. There was a bitter wind in late afternoon, and I hadn't taken that into account. It reminded me of that March where I froze my gand off after roast goose, and ended up buying a garment I have not worn since. I think today I'll have two undergarments beneath my shirt.

The place to which I went for lunch is one I had not visited since the pandemic lockdown. They're under new ownership now, possibly the old mother retired and both the son and daughter-in-law went on to better things. I hope so. The new people have barely changed a thing, they're obviously keen to keep their Chinatown clientele. Prices are a bit higher, not much. The specials are the same. The waitress from years ago is still there.

Late lunch. Excellent. I'll add them to my irregular regularity.


Dunhill Shellbriar filled with rubbed out red flake.
Smoked afterwards in a deserted block.
Few people. No tourists.
Long calmness.

It struck me yesterday that in all the hoopla about Kyle Rittenhouse being hospitalized by a brown recluse bite, no one has mentioned what happened to the spider. I hope she's okay. Hasn't been infected with something. Who knows where Kyle had been.

Nor has anyone delved into what Kyle did to get bitten.
He probably acted like a total dick.


My sympathies are with the arachnid.
Our eight-legged fellow citizen.
A team player. Totally.



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