After that hike

Lyrics. I mean, one of the reasons to buy a CD is for the copyright data — I’ve got a couple of editors, not to mention my own liberal arts sensitivity — which all suggests I need to be able to get the words right, and then get the author attributed. Looking for that “lost verse” on an REK song. It’s a final verse that adds some extra texture to a feeling, a sense I’ve got about West Texas — and another project I’m working on. Mayflies for bait. I took off for a long hike yesterday morning, trying to clear cobwebs out of my head. Didn’t work, not really, but I had the weirdest vision, something I actually saw, there was this pair of swans, almost beached on rock on the eastern loop of the trail, and there was fairly large yellow ear turtle up there with them, his head, tail, and legs all withdrawn. One of the swans was pecking at the moss on the turtle’s back. And I no sooner arrived home from the hike than the phone rang. “Shopping? Dinner? Now?” “Sure,” I replied. My Pisces hostess for Saturday’s party. Damnedest thing: while shopping, she bought nothing, but I found a great shirt — machine washable silk Hawaiian print — total? $8.61. That’s a deal — it’s increasingly difficult to find clothing that clashes so well. We had an early dinner at Hill’s Cafe [4700 S. Congress Ave.], a legendary place according to the placemat. Interesting history, too, as it claims to be tied to the Goodnight family, ranch and Texas lore. But the “Goodnight Steak” I had was just that. Almost put me to sleep. After that hike, a huge chunk of rare sirloin would’ve put anyone to sleep.