Strong & Black...

 

3:29am

Derailers,cheer-leading a private party of one in the kitchen.

“Genuine” shaking the vintage canisters.

“Alexa…Turn it up!”

Doesn’t matter, Carla is down for the count. Unusual for her to be in the bed instead of out on the couch under her weighted blanket, buried deep.

I could set off a bomb in here, she wouldn’t budge.

Collards with ham, simmered all afternoon. Baked sweet potato small butter pools on the lunar landscape.Chinese five Spice,a touch of light brown sugar.

Pasture raised,beef. Clean. Boneless rib eye, trimmed lean, garlic, onion, and salt rubbed. Quick char in cast iron glistening with olive oil.

All of it interspersed with quick visits to the Smith machine in the great room. Seated presses. Working on the shoulders. According to the veteran sales guy who fitted me with a new jacket four years ago: “Oh well, this should work. You have no shoulders.”

I said: “Amazing! And yet I can hold things overhead, wave to the crowd and seem to have full function!"

Little shit insulted me, and I still bought his crappy jacket which I never wear.

His shoulder observation hurt because it was true. One last set.

More importantly right now, the coffee is ready.

A shaving mug of hot Colombian, the way I laughingly tell Carla I like my women...strong & black.