You can tell your house is cold when the beer you take out of the refrigerator feels too warm. That happened last night; I’d flown back to Arcata after a few days in Lexington (home of horses and bourbon and incidentally the University of Kentucky) and it was 26 degrees F in my car; I had no scraper so had to wait ages to melt the ice from my windshield before leaving the airport. It was well after midnight when I got home; too late to light the wood stove. I chose a beer from the cupboard and took a bath. Thank goodness for down.
This morning there was ice on the INSIDE of my windows. Not pretty frost, just a think layer of ugly ice. I discovered my camera had been broken whilst in my carry on; I had watched the night before, at SFO, whilst a cranky woman had slammed all the bags too big to fit on board a propeller-powered plane onto the conveyor belt, so I should not have been surprised. The camera was in the front pocket–won’t make that mistake again. But it had made it out to Lexington without damage, and the flight from Chicago to Lexington is also on a small plane–but no propellers–so it had survived three such handlings. We will see if the claim for I finally succeeded in filing gets a response.
In the meantime… I lit the fire; the ice slowly melted; the cats will forgive me someday;-) The layover in OHare (one of my favorite airports) had allowed me to bring Garrett popcorn to the boys upon petition, so they had no issues. and they like the idea of living in Lexington.
It would not be a bad destination. I had a delicious bourbon maple bagel, an excellent bourbon barrel stout; Keeneland (linked above) is about 7 miles from the university, and the surrounding countryside is the image of my childhood dreams of horses. Property is cheap, and Louisville is only 80 miles away. It’s also got guns; probably no more than around here, per capita, but Lexington is a small blue island surrounded by red. Good for research though, and the muggles were all very polite. We were treated to an excellent dinner (brie melted on steak for me) in the very horsey Julep Cup – complete with old leather halter decor on dark red walls with a surfeit of horse pictures. Lunch the next day was in Darlin Jeans Cafe in Midway, a picturesque town with an equally equine theme in the middle of Thoroughbred country.
If I were truly crazy (and had a healthier bank balance), I’d bag the academia fixation and take advantage of an opportunity like this:
Not really; I haven’t the requisite social charm to make such an endeavor fruitful. I’ll stick with research and writing, and feed my horse addiction with riding whenever I can fit it in. But Midway was a darling little town in the middle of horse heaven (reminding me fortuitously of Smiley’s entertaining book). I have more important things to be writing.
Turns out my camera can still take pictures; you just cannot see through its viewer. Here is the ice on the window in the warmest room in my house:
