I had fun posting the old dictated journal on Wednesday. It amused me, even though it was me who created both, how what I put into the journal evolved into a post later (like the crunchy beef bake episode). I also felt intrigued that although I bothered to tell myself what winter Olympic sports we watched the night before, the Olympics never became a post on the blog (and I really like the Olympics, the only sports that I watch). I had also forgotten how far back my daily lumbering (jogging/running) was becoming problematic. As I actually care, I want to note that I have gotten better, more disciplined about it (when incessant morning rain or working until after midnight donʼt give me an excuse to stay in bed — or until this past week, which included both rain and thorough lack of sleep as excuses). Okay, I will be getting better again. Soon. Next week.
The old diary brought back memories of the cold and snow. And the days when I didnʼt have a job hanging over my head like Dr. Gʼs humanitarian blade. Having gotten MacSpeech Dictate in line (although itʼs still a little irregular identifying what I say, screwing up two to ten words per page, depending on what kind of vocabulary I am using — on the other hand my erratic typing misspells more words than that, which is what is happening as I create this pretty random post), I felt like laughing at my old, frustrated February self. So there were lots of antique aspects of my life to ponder and deride.
One old experience revived was eating salmon burgers, which I just consumed for lunch again on Thursday (probably for the first time since February). We (or rather I should say “I” as Janet has never touched nor tasted one) buy them irregularly at Aldi in a package of four that isnʼt quite as inexpensive as other purchases we make in that store (such as milk in particular, packaged Romaine lettuce, fresh fruit and vegetables, cereal and naturally, canned goods). I am sure the “burgers” are made from the worst (and if I only knew, most nauseating) parts of the fish, but they made an easy, quick lunch back in those winter months for a few weeks. I bought a package shortly after the diary entries and only opened it on Thursday afternoon for lunch. Back in the winter, I just put the burgers on a plastic dish and juiced them in the microwave (not recommended by the manufacturer), sometimes making a sandwich from the result with thin buns, lettuce, tomato and unreal mayonnaise. Yesterday I actually did right by the stuff and broiled the two rounds of salmony edible. Tasted about the same either way, just crunchier from the oven. Quite fishy, but filling, too.
Speaking of salmon, I had an excellent bowl of salmon chowder at the Lockspot Cafe by the locks in north Seattle (actually Ballard) when Janet and I were there a couple of years ago. Thus the photo to illustrate todayʼs post. More recently, I read a restaurant review that the panned the Lockspot as essentially touristy with poor food. I must disagree: this tourist thought the food was hearty and tasty. In fact, ever since then I have been on the lookout for a good salmon chowder recipe (to match Janetʼs tuna chowder, a recipe I should share here soon). Suggestions, anyone?
Restaurant soup makes me remember our trip to Hawaii about twenty years ago (or more, sadly; Janet got to return during her last year as a travel agent, 1999, on a final fam trip, which happened sadly to extend over the weekend of our anniversary, on which I got to hear her gloat long-distance about the fantastic food and drink at the elegant and luxuious Kaanapali Princess, where — further sadness — we did not stay together in the Eighties). We did visit three islands at my travel agent-wifeʼs recommendation: Oahu (where we stayed in my first high-rise gigantic beachfront hotel, with a fantastic lanai room high in the sky overlooking Waikiki and a tiki-themed restaurant before they became postmodern kitschy again), Maui (where I would return in less than a dying manʼs heartbeat) and Kauai — where I learned about the Menehune, among many other marvels and experiences. (You can click on the links to appreciate the carefully-correct-to-Hawaiian punctuation and diacritical marking of the names on Wikipedia.) We stayed on the eastern side of Kauai at a hotel that a Pacific hurricane later destroyed, I believe in Kapaa, which at least is the town where we lunched at the Ono Family Restaurant, and where we had their fantastic signature soup (and paid for the postcard or whatever with the soup recipe). We have only made the soup twice in the twenty-some years since, and as it requires Portuguese sausage, that soup recipe was my introduction to the nearest replacement we could imagine, chorizo. Making the soup was also my adult introduction to boiling a hambone, something which my mother had to have accomplished regularly to make her wonderful ham-and-bean soup. Ono Family Restaurant soup is also the reason we have chorizo in the freezer right now (it was next to the box of salmon burgers, coincidentally, when I got my lunch out).
So hereʼs another burp my my decision to post the old diary — more dated recollections. (And although the internet failed me, I could have sworn that my chosen title is from a song lyric, evidently not, which would have been an allusion to suggest my reflective theme. Strange, that I should have invented an imaginary popular song that apparently never existed.)
Fun, how the mind tracks its own strangely connected way from topic to topic…