Memories, If I Had A better One

I just took care of the various dishes I made for dinner. Pork tenderloin cooked in coffee, spiced with just fresh ground pepper and sea salt. Chicken thighs in three different tastes. The first with olive oil & poultry spice, the second with olive oil & a salt-free spice mix and the third with roasted garlic oil and a 'soul food' spice mix. I roasted the third one in a cast iron skillet, so it actually fried in the oil, while the others had far more broth than grease. I put the meat away separately, but mixed the broths (not from the pork) and will make a chicken, leek & rice soup with the broth and soul-food thighs.

Before that, I threw a bunch of stuff away. Directly from the shelves in my bedroom to the trash. Paystubs from 2008, Imprimus magazines from 2006. Anything that just did not hold my attention.

I did keep all the old Christmas & birthday cards, and I drank a dead-flat Coca-Cola from a 'Holiday 2008' bottle.

Among the things I did NOT toss were report cards from as far back as 1961 and on from there, which detail both an undistinguished time as a student (does not apply himself) as well as the predations of the river rats that inveded the house 20 years ago, but were finally repulsed.

Among the things I found was a self-portrait in pencil from 1967. God. Was I ever really that young? Judging from the Senior picture taken two years later, I don't think I romanticized myself much, although my younger self was a good-looking kid.

The report cards made me realize what a burden I was to my mother, even before I was tetched by the idiocy of hippiedom

Thank God I've outgrown at least that part of my past.