Somehow I managed to date all my notes and journal entries from the 22nd to the 25th as June, rather than July. Maybe it’s a wish to revert to cooler temps. Or maybe it’s the desire to go back and start this project over again. How does one unthink assumptions? The notes are growing in volume if not coherence.
A brunch break consisted of cold eggs, squishy bread, slightly greasy potatoes, decent honeydew and cantaloupe.
Then more notes, which I wrote while pacing the halls of the hotel and a quick tour outside. Even if I didn’t achieve much with the project, I finally worked out the kinks in my legs with lots of stretching and a 5K on the treadmill. Going on the road was out of the question because the hotel is squished among three strip malls with no sidewalks. The cars I didn’t encounter on the drive to Ithaca were all cruising the thoroughfares and parking lots. Plus the temps surpassed 90 with ditto humidity.
The exercise shook loose more helpful stuff for the project and produced a couple of decent insights. I have the sense there are vast pieces of the work floating just beyond my grasp. It does feel good to be living somewhere besides the State of Insanity during this election season.
Betsy chose our dinner location – Le Café Cent Dix. Two of its three owners went to the Cornell School of Hotel Administration, and it showed in the details. My Bibb lettuce salad let the greens shine with the dressing and herbs (including sorrel, flat-leaf parsley, and a whisper of shallots) in a supporting role. The cod Provençale contained all my favorite stuff – olives, capers, tomatoes, and garlic, perfectly cooked and flavored. The anchor of potato contained vast quantities of butter, an odd choice for a dish that comes from the olive-growing area of France.
Slept through about half the compressor groans.