This afternoon Tom and I will head north to the homeland, where the band and I will play a gig at a community party in Sangerville and Tom will amuse himself till we're done. This will be his first visit north since last winter, and I wonder what it will feel like for him.
The weather is supposed to be strangely hot today, so this gazebo gig will apparently not be much like one we played at Moosehead in August, when I thought the north wind would drag us into the lake.
I have been on a roll lately, at least as regards dinner. I told you about the pan-fried scup we had a couple of nights ago. Well, last night I took a notion to mix together some coarse mustard, olive oil, cayenne, salt/pepper, and chopped rosemary; spread it all over a small boneless pork loin; and bake it for an hour at 325 degrees. It was magnificent, and just about as easy as opening a package of Oreos . . . a fine after-house-painting-when-you-are-starving-but-sick-of-working meal.
In actual news: I'm just about to send off invitation letters to guest faculty for the 2018 Frost Place Conference on Poetry and Teaching. I hope they say yes, I hope they say yes.