And the Answer is ....

..... uh, first let me refresh your memory of the question. Scroll down to the entry 'MFH is walking around the house laughing her head off'. The question was, how can the little computer translator used by St John's church translate a date as Jueves, Puede 25.

The answer: Puede usually means 'one can'. Once upon a time people might even say 'one may'.
Thus, May 25.

Me and my fish monger....

.... also known as Lee's Fresh Seafood on West D Street in North Wilkesboro. It's summertime, I am not teaching, and MFH has once again appointed me Captain of the Kitchen for the summer (it is, of course, an honor I don't deserve). I try to serve fish at least once a week, so off to Lee the Fish Monger I go. This last week I didn't get there until 4:45 on Saturday, just as he was getting ready to close until he gets fresh fish the following Wednesday. I bought the pound of salmon I wanted, and then suddenly he says, do you want any scallops, they won't be any good next week. And hands me a bag of about a dozen huge scallops. Then he says, how about some tuna, and hands me a tuna steak. Next he throws in a swordfish steak for good measure. All as a gift.

So I am now recommending my good friend Lee for anyone who wants seafood. It's better then Lowes, a better selection, and the money all goes into a local business.

BTW, the salmon was great that evening when I fixed them with a honey mustard sauce with walnuts, and the scallops were delicious the next evening when MFH sauted them in an orange sauce.

Some observations about libraries in general .....

... which of course fit our library in particular. This is from Tyler Cowen's rather grumpy 'What are Independent Book Stores Really Good for? Not Much' article in Slate.com. After dissing independent bookstores, he suggest the discriminating reader go to ... the local library!

Spend more time in public libraries, which offer many of the best features of indie bookshops, including informed staff, diversity, and offbeat titles. Of course, public libraries aren't exactly atmospherically "cool." The clientele is often young children, women over 40, and retired men. I visit five public libraries on a regular basis, and each one makes me feel old. But they deliver the goods.

Now, as my sister-in-law helpfully pointed out in the middle of our wedding ceremony six years ago, we are already old. So it doesn't make either me or MFH feel any older to spend time at the library. Although MFH complains about parents who simply drop their kids off at the library for the whole day with nothing to do, as a type of free baby-sitting service.

And then, there are always these types of patrons, who show up NYT's bestseller list in hand;

Many customers want very recent best-sellers, often so they can feel they are reading something trendy, something other people are talking about. Of course, that's its own kind of affectation—and not an entirely pleasing one.

Once again Cowen is spot on. So do yourself a favor, go to the nearest library and wander, browse, paw through the stacks, cast your eye o'er many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore. If you are forced to chose between reading an off the wall book you've found in your hand, and something someone has recommended to you - go for the odd. 80% of my learning I got that way.

MFH is walking around the house laughing her head off...

.... Holding the latest bulletin from Saint John's Catholic Church. The church staff tries to publish a Spanish version of the bulletin, apparently by using a computer translator (a tip: DO NOT use such software if you are easily embarrassed). Occasionally some words are simply too much for the computer's little brain.

MFH was laughing at the following entry, giving the date for a meeting at the church as:

Jueves, Puede 25

The Jueves is clear: Thursday. But what is Puede 25?

I'll post the answer in few days. See if you can figure it out. It took MFH a few seconds, and she had to explain it to me!

A Recent Visit to the Library...

... it had been awhile, so I settled in for a nice afternoon's read of magazines and newspapers. First, I looked to see if there was anything new in the audio books section. Lots of multilated recordings. Only a few intact versions of anything.

But I discovered a new book upstairs that caught my eye - 'Fernando Pessoa & Co.', a volume of selected poems by the Portuguese poet whom I had never heard of. He was a deeply strange man who wrote under a number of different 'heteronyms', or alternate personae. Each had his own personality, interests, style, and in some cases,language. For instance, some of his personae write only in English, others in French. Most, however, wrote in Portuguese. Thus the conceit of the '& Co.' in the title. Pessoa published very little in his lifetime but left a huge body of work, some of it nearly illegible, when he died.

Why did this volume catch my eye? Perhaps because a good friend is a poet, and I wanted to practice reading poetry. More likely it is that when I opened the book by chance my eye fell on a short poem that said exactly, economically, and beautifully a thought I have struggled to articulate for most of my life.

They spoke to me of people and humanity.
But I've never seen people or humanity.
I've seen various people, astonishingly dissimilar,
Each separated from the next by an unpeopled space.

So I checked the book out, and am now trying to read it, though I do not have a mind suited for poetry evidently.

A message for niece Mulan:

Xiang-nian ni.

A Sad Sight on our Walk....

... the Little Lummox and I went for one of our normal walks, down School Street to the Medical Building in what used to be the old Lowes. I think of it as the Medical Building because there are so many doctors' offices there.

When we turned the corner to come up the front side we saw huge floral displays, like at a funeral, covering one of the parking places. It was Dr Cirillo's reserved spot. I read some of the notes from heart-broken patients and friends to Lummox. It took me by surprise, I think. One of the virtues of living in a small town is that everybody knows everyone and no one's death passes unnoticed.

The Merlefest

The Merlefest

This year it was a beautiful weekend for the MerleFest-the big bluegrass festival that is held across the creek from our front yard every year. A few years ago the Fest managers pumped $40,000 into the sound system so now we can practically hear the whole thing from our bedroom. A few years ago I told everyone that I had had Dolly Parton in the bedroom. It sure sounded like it. The Fest starts on Thursday night and goes until late Sunday afternoon. MFH says that when it stops you suddenly think you are deaf. Sunday morning as I got up I could hear Doc Watson himself singing and talking. He's about 80 now and we don't know how much longer he can go. May he have long life!

This year I waited until Sunday to go with my friend Rosemary, her friend Jerry and another couple. It was overcast, which made it chilly, which was the way I like it. I met Jerry and Rosemary at the sand sculpture - this time it was of bears playing musical instruments and acting silly. It was called 'The Big Bad Burly Bear Band.' A big bad blow for alliteration in everyday life.

First we all went to hear Allison Brown, whom I'd never heard of. She is a banjo player and very good. It was at one of the smaller venues so we could set up close - in fact it was hard to avoid it. After that we went to hear Pete Seeger. I thought he was dead, and had been for some years, but he is still alive and pickin' at 87. His grandson, a tall handsome man with a good voice, performed with him. Then I went off on my own to hear John Craven and his ad hoc jazz band. I think I enjoyed them the most since they were funny, and very very good. Again, I was only about 25 feet from the stage on a hillside steep enough that I was looking down on the band. Later I wandered around and listened to some little bands where I could sit close and practically shake hands with the players. For the finale I sat out at the big Watson Stage and listened to Bela Fleck and the Flecktones. This included Mr Futureman and his amazing electronic percussion section that he wears strapped to his chest like a warped electric quitar. It has all kinds of weird lights on it blinking and flashing.

Got back home, got MHF and then went off to El Chile Verde with the others. We were going to Monte de Rey, but the daughter of the Rosemary's friend works for the health dept and advised us against it. Something about the last kitchen inspection.

It was all a lot of fun. Last year the MerleFest dropped something like $14 million into the local economy and this year it was about $16 million, a record. We certainly needed it.

This last Saturday I went up to Boone's Tot Lot for Mairead's fourth birthday party. Actually she has been four for two weeks or so, but has steadily refused to admit it until the party was over. The looming storm clouds held off, the sun came out, and it was a beautiful if windy day. It was a Tinkerbell themed party. At one point all the little kids donned fairy wings and ran to hide. Great fun was had by all.

By the way, I never really appreciated how well cup cakes with icing go with beer.

My New Motto:

This morning, since I had to go into work but wouldn't be teaching, I laid out my most frayed, worn and comfy pants and shirt for MFH to iron. I didn't think the pants needed ironing but she insisted. When I was all set and ready to go out the door, she looked me over critically and said:

"Shabby, but not rumpled."