The Great Conroy
08 December 2020 | St Marys, GA
Cap'n Andy | portents of winter
Searching for more pork and bean recipes I came across a book by Pat Conroy, it’s a sort of autobiography cookbook. Pat wrote Prince of Tides and The Great Santini. He is a very good writer and a foodie. In this book, The Pat Conroy Cookbook, he recounts his youth, which shaped him, and his low point when his manuscript which was hurriedly typed up on all of the town’s typewriters, one chapter to each typist, made it to a New York literary agent who was charmed by the strange arrangement of the chapters, different type faces. The agent’s initial response sounded like he didn’t take the manuscript seriously, and Conroy shut down, didn’t tell anyone about it, held that fear of losing everything inside, and couldn’t open the envelope that came later from the agent. Finally he opened it far away from everyone and read a wonderful review of his work and an offer from the agent to work with him from then on. The result was two oscar winning movies and several books. Unfortunately, although there were many wonderful recipes in the book, no pork and beans.
.
The 9V battery adapters with coaxial DC connectors finally arrived, were tested, one given to Radio Bill for his little $30 oscilloscope, and me retaining the other for my little unit. I don’t know when I’ll use it.
.
We had the usual Monday Pizza Night and I made 4 pizzas, one mushroom, one pepperoni, one Creole sausage, and one with all three. It was chilly, beginning of winter, hard to hang out on the communal porch, but some new pizza lovers showed up and just like that all the pizza was gone. Radio Bill brought anchovies which worked well on the pie I ruined by putting another pie on top while confused by wine and the intense heat of the pizza oven, confined in the tiny communal kitchen. No pizza for breakfast.
.
The NY Jets, I originally typed as NY Jests, continue to tank for Trevor Lawrence in next spring’s NFL draft. The Jets are the losingest team in the NFL, followed by the Jacksonville Jaguars, which would be the local team around here in South Georgia. So, I was watching the Jaguars on local TV while monitoring the Jets game on my so called smart phone. I had heard that the Jets would love to have the Jaguars win a game, then the Jets could win a game and still be in line for the #1 draft pick. I noticed a pattern. The Jaguars started off their game with the lead and built on it. Then the Jets started playing well. The Jags were getting caught up and not looking so good, the Jets started making mistakes. The Jets almost won their game, a big mistake, defeated by a late second field goal.
.
The communal laundry which is located in the communal kitchen, not a large space, hard for terrestrial dwellers to fathom, a kitchen and a laundry in such a small space, including a kitchen table, with a tablecloth provided by Rosie, the Flower Arranger, ruined by Cap’n Andy and his pizza oven, was built by cruising sailors. Some provided utensils that they no longer needed, some stole utensils. The laundry was defunct, the washer has lost its mind and no longer spins when it indicates spin, totally given up by the yardbirds coming to wash their epoxy stained clothes. Where to wash clothes now?
.
In town, behind the Wee Pub, is a functional laundromat, which we went to to do our epoxy stained clothes. The idea was to take advantage of the happy hour at the pub, 2 for 1, and do our clothes, yay. The happy hour doesn’t start till 3 in the afternoon, so we went off to do other errands, shopping at the local Winn-Dixie. I bought a few things but I didn’t need to kill time, I was hungry, forget about the happy hour. Meanwhile, Dave the helicopter pilot, Rough Rider Lynn’s partner, shopped so slowly I couldn’t believe it. For some, time is compressed, for others, time is ether, unaccounted for. This is why Americans have their own car and drive solo to get things done.
.
We went back to the pub and laundry. My crappy clothes were in the washer, coins inserted, timer said 27 minutes, smart phone programmed with a 27 minute timer, back to the pub and some draft beer, ordered steak and bleau salad, perfect, rare. We drank and talked. Timer ticked down slowly in its ethereal way. Rough Rider Lynn was off to do other errands. It seemed to take forever for our food orders. But we were not in a hurry. We would have to dry clothes here in this remote location. The timer went off and I ran over to the laundromat, I had forgotten to push the START button. Ugh. Push the button and go back. It turned out there were other delays.
.
The food was good. Nice steak salad with a 3 cheese vinaigrette. Forget about the time. My fellow yardbirds, we had some bonding, I assume, and another episode is recorded in the blog. We’re headed into Winter, the first snaps of frost and polar winds get our attention, we know we will have to do laundry again in the not to distant future.
.
The image is from saatchiart.com, called: STILL LIFE AT SUNSET, by Stephen Conroy of the United Kingdom. I searched a lot of stuff on saatchiart.com and had to settle with this one. It’s available for purchase at about $1200.