Woke to rain, so rare here in summer, morning rain, I'd forgotten it happens. My first thought: how will I run? And then of course: run in the rain. Which will let up in a few hours anyway. It smells so good. Dust and water, rain-wait and relief. This I miss most: you can count on it.
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Reading today. I am making guacamole. I'm cutting those twelve perfect avocados open in just a few minutes. Tomatoes, garlic, cilantro, oregano. Chile tepin. Simmons is bringing wine and cheese. Eduardo is driving all the way from Tumbleweed to read for you. You should come if you can. I'd like to see you at last.
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We lunched at Neo yesterday. Tofu beef shrimp chicken pork in claypot. Lychee sherbet. Exquisite. And Myrna drove the four of us in her new convertible Saab. Closest I've come to that feeling is riding around in the back of a pickup truck. Before car seats. You know.
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Also, I bought this from the Desert Museum's cook book collection when we went last Saturday night in search of black-lit scorpions and moths in the moth garden. Gorgeous love food. Can't wait to cook for you.
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The guac is hot. I made it while talking to Herman on the phone. We talked a long time. I miss him.
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