Wonderin'

I'm in a wondering mood. Wondering, first off, if I still remember how to write stuff such as this. Wondering if this moment, and anything I might manage doing over on Protag, will be a fading memory Monday morn: I might catch myself staring in the bathroom mirror, like someone back from vacation, and only the sunburn reminds it really happened.

Wondering about the seafood tanks at Superstore this morning, too. Live tilapia, nosing into the current bubbling from the aerator. Among them, a tiny not-tilapia: a whiskered catfish, sleek and agile as a torpedo, and more like a specimen you might purchase for the aquarium than dinner.

"Prob'ly not from around here," said the old gent, who had stopped by to eyeball rainbow trout in the next tank.

Old gent then recounted fond days of his youth, in Alberta, in the Rocky Mountains near Montana, and pulling out trout by the dozen. We both remarked about the price stuck on the tank edge: that two-pound trout, about twelve dollars.

Neil Young, along with the Shocking Pinks, Wonderin', just on the radio, started me wanderin'. Work's been...work. I'll leave it at that. It's been a long busy season.