General Tso’s Chicken and fried pork dumplings from Golden Chopstix.

This morning I am counting the hours until I can eat Chinese leftovers for lunch.  I was up at 4:30 AM, staring into the refrigerator and wondering if I could last for 7 hours.

I can.  I will.  I am strong.

Sort of.

Yesterday we drove twenty minutes south to the new Michael’s, because I had a double coupon for framing.  Banjo Man and I went through our piles of photographs and art and posters and memorabilia and picked out four things to have framed.

Two were gifts of poems by Idaho poet Paul Croy.

Illustration by David Kendall.

He was a dear, sweet man who was loved and respected by everyone who knew him.  We bought a wood cook stove from him in the 1970’s and he made us huckleberry pancakes.

That wood cook stove was stolen from our cabin and I am still beyond angry over that.

So we were very particular as to how we wanted these framed.   I think they’ll be beautiful.  I’m excited.

To read one of his books of poetry, Old Blazes, click HERE.

Then Banjo Man wanted to go out for Chinese and I wanted to order take-out and go home to the cozy living room and the Big Couch.  I won.  But my phone battery was dead.  Banjo Man had a little bit of life in his, so we managed to order our food after 6 aborted dialing attempts.

We are not good with cell phones.

I don’t think we’re going to get any better, either.  Banjo Man explained how he’d read an article about Apple Pay and that it was going to be “the future” of commerce, due mostly to the fact that it couldn’t be hacked.

I asked him if he thought we would ever be able to use an I-phone, never mind how to pay for groceries and Chinese take-out with it.

He had no answer.

This morning it was below zero again.  We don’t care any more.