Aren't the floating gas cans a classy touch?
So, it rained a whole lot in case you had not heard. Roads were impassable, work was missed, and the abandoned pancake house near my house was on the national news because it sits alongside the historically swollen Pawtuxet River. I’m hoping the winter’s worth of dog waste in the yard washed away in the flood. Fresh beginnings for everyone!
Is it bad that I thoroughly enjoyed my confinement? I found a ukulele in the basement when we were relocating things to higher ground before the basement started flooding in earnest. I’ve tried unsuccessfully to learn to play the guitar in the past, and I bought the ukulele from Amazon several years ago with the expectation that it was simple enough even for me. The fact that it was rediscovered in a dark corner of my basement should tell you all you need to know about how that worked out. But if at first you don’t succeed, et cetera. Yesterday I couldn’t play the ukulele at all, and today I know three chords and can play a mean version of “Buffalo Gals”. I feel like Jimmy Stewart is going to show up and start talking crazy. It’s a baritone ukulele, which is apparently much different from the smaller ukes – more of a small guitar. My uke teacher uses a traditional instrument, which doesn’t bode well for my progression as a musician. Didn’t Jimi Hendrix teach himself to play the guitar backwards because he was left-handed? I am kind of like that. Bob says might as well learn “It’s a Small World After All”, because it can’t be worse than hearing me play “Skip to the Lou my Darling” 32 times in a row.
“I really want to encourage you,” he tells me. “But there’s a time to reap and a time to sow what you’ve learned.” I suppose he is reasonable to expect me not to bring the ukulele to bed with me. My obsessions are as powerful as the mighty Pawtuxet River.
In between practicing my music, I cooked. I’m concerned Silas’s diet of bananas, avocados, and waffles is lacking nutritionally, so I made a huge batch of stuffed shells with pureed sweet potato and spinach mixed in with the ricotta. All the ricotta cheese on display at the market reminded me of Carmela Soprano’s Easter Pie of Intimidation. ‘Tis the season.
The Mudyard 