it's getting toward the holiday season, which puts me into my annual dilemma about whether or not to buy my brother a still for christmas.
he lives in westchester, so i'm dying for him to be cooking up his own hooch in a shed in the backyard, thus confirming that they could take us rednecks out of central Illinois, but couldn't take...
(i also have been trying to get him to host a greater New York roadkill cook-off, but somehow that plan has been stalled as well)
the problem, of course, is that stills sometimes explode (thus some of cormac mccarthy's characters referring to their liquor as 'splo -- and thus i go by Splo for our various sports leagues),
and he and i and his wife hillary all love their three kids more than anything on the planet, so i'll need to resolve some safety issues before we proceed. nonetheless, i'm encouraged by this set up -- and the certainty that my brother will see in it a portrait of my future just as i see in it a portrait of his. we might have to wait till the kids go to college, but there might could be some shine in westchester. just you wait and see.
as to matters more in the here and now, meanwhile, tomorrow i'm going to eat at a place called the Hunter's Lodge/Home. sounds quite promising. apparently i'm also about to be treated to some homemade village rakija and ajvar, which of course thrills me to no end (ajvar is a kind of roasted pepper spread that i'm beginning to think is my favorite food here. it's absolutely killer)
i've also learned the cyrillic alphabet and am now reading street signs everywhere and figuring out all the cognates. my vocabulary is now at a whopping maybe 80 words, but i am surprised at how many greek and latin roots sneak in to this old-church-slavonic-derived language. and now that i've caused acute narcolepsy in all of you, i'll say sweet dreams.
check back in for report on the game at the hunter's lodge. i promise to order any rodent on the menu.
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