when the dog bites
Bright copper kettles and warm woolen mittens
Brown paper packages tied up with strings
These are a few of my favorite things
Door bells and sleigh bells and schnitzel with noodles
Wild geese that fly with the moon on their wings
These are a few of my favorite things
Snowflakes that stay on my nose and eyelashes
Silver white winters that melt into springs
These are a few of my favorite things
When the bee stings
When I'm feeling sad
I simply remember my favorite things
And then I don't feel so bad
A private person beyond imagining, I've been not at all bothered by the social aspect of covid, shelter in place and that. Though used to it now and, combining vaccinated with an ongoing overabundance of the super-caution that seems apt for an elderly person, intending not to resume, what I've missed is the eating out together side of it: eggs over-medium and cheese grits at Big Mama's on the Bayou; Golden Corral breakfast of an enormous fried chicken drumstick, lunch of chicken livers covered with meatloaf gravy from the adjacent tray. Incomparable guacamole salad at Los Antojitos. Oysters half-shell and fried oysters at Hunt's, not carry-out, but inside with music blaring, pitcher of Landshark, and watching wait staff rush back and forth with platters of maybe I'll order that next time. Fried mullet at Captain's Table. Savoring which sushi to order at Fin's, Shan Kishi, Jin Jin King. Fried grouper sandwich at Bayou Joe's. Fire-baked whole red snapper at Captain Anderson's. Santa Rosa, oyster log at Stinky's. Small salad and fried oysters at Alice's on Bayview. Gulf Trio at Uncle Ernie's. Small thin-crust pizza with double anchovies at Enzo's. &c.
Whilst my living doesn't revolve around the next meal, the bank account notices that we no longer eat out.