India Cafe

We did not eat at India Cafe tonight. In fact, I just picked the last of the pine nuts out of the skillet while listening to Van Morrison's "Philosopher's Stone" here in the luxurious kitchen of our downsized domicile. Janelle is putting Eleanor down to sleep right now and Stella's trying to dig a hole to China right through the floorboards of our house. I'm not sure why. Perhaps there's buried treasure that only she can sense.

Damn. These weekends evaporate like...something vaporized. I wish they were longer. I wish they were strung together. I wish time wasn't so damn goofy and always goofing on me...let India Cafe be a symbol of my naked discontent.

We went to the farmer's market today, which is just a block or so from India Cafe. We walked, perused, passed judgment, and bought several armfuls of: vegetables (squash, potatoes, cucumbers, and tomatoes - all organic & fresh from the Iowa topsoil), houseplants (two stellar jades that'll keep us company and greened-up here in the house during the impending, "long, terrible" winter), a nice bouquet of red, weird flowers, and...(drumroll)...bacon (fresh from some local hog's belly, preservative and hormone free)! Huzzah!