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Philip Spiess
Dave: I was thoroughly digesting Sharon Olds' poem, although I was excited by the thought that it was by you. But no matter: it was worthy of the entry; I keep hoping that incidents like that in Ferguson, Mo., which are all too reminiscent of the 1960s, spur more Americans to recognize that we are all one, and that negative racial atitudes must be crushed, much as such attitudes toward LGBT Americans seem (surprisingly) to be disappearing in many quarters. (Scientifically, race does not exist as an entity, and, if you've noticed, many official government forms confuse race and ethnicity.)
Larry: We, too, were caught in the New England snow storms on the way to Maine, but not badly; we made it easily, as those folks know how to clear roads. The major shopping we did was at the New Hampshire State Liquor Stores, which are huge and have a vast selection of the good, the bad, and the ugly when it comes to alcohol.
All, re orchids: I hope you all know about the author Rex Stout's famous fictional detective, Nero Wolfe, and his orchid rooms atop his New York City brownstone townhouse; he spends two hours every morning and afternoon up there cultivating the exotic flowers, and, when he isn't actually solving crimes, spends the rest of the time cooking and eating -- as do I (cf. any of the Nero Wolfe mysteries or The Nero Wolfe Cookbook, 1973). Fortunately, I by no means have Nero Wolfe's poundage from my cooking and eating (though I processed much seafood of various kinds while in New England), but I am also not quite the ephebe-like figure I was in high school!
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