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This is my jam tonight. The end of a day of heavy rain, a day of LL Bean boots and soggy jeans, a day of wind-blown umbrellas, a day of motorcycle jackets zipped all the way up with the collar popped to protect the neck from spitting precipitation. Running errands, trying to get ingredients for tomorrow's hastily rescheduled potluck since last weekend was canceled due to ice. Trying to get supplies for the bunnies that Mariah randomly showed up with yesterday. Going to the taco truck for dinner, with its enclosed dining area protected from the rain.

I love Kendrick Lamar's verse on this song. I struggled to get into his huge album, good kid, mAAD city. I thought his flow and lyricism were great, but some aspects of the overall tone and theme of the album I found distasteful. This track for Flying Lotus, though, showcases Lamar's skill with none of the gangsta elements. It's just Lamar meditating on mortality. It's exquisite, perfect. Flying Lotus's track is, in my opinion, more interesting than anything on mAAd city. Flying Lotus is like the Frank Zappa of the EDM world, incorporating jazz, funk, 90s IDM, musique concrete, and basically every other musical flavor to further the atmosphere of the tracks. Lamar flows effortlessly over the jazzy landscape as though it were his home.

Mariah got a couple of bunnies, as I said. She got two, so they could snuggle. One is an albino, white with pink eyes. The other is white with thick black eyeliner and a black stripe down the back. The albino, Mariah named Pink, which quickly became Pinky when I explained that cute pets need two-syllable names. The other, we struggled to name. It has a black mustache, so I thought about names related to Charlie Chaplin/The Scamp, but those names didn't fit. I kept calling it The Brain, since the other's name is Pinky. I thought about Zappa, because of the mustache. I thought about calling it Triumph, because it has a racing stripe and I love Triumph motorcycles. We got a green carrying case, which I called British Racing Green. I joked about painting the carrying case with a racing stripe, then realized that the unnamed bunny actually has a racing stripe on her back. I proposed that we call her Triumph, The Brain Zappa. This name seemed to work on every level. Triumph, because this bunny has a racing stripe, and because she is the adventurous one, the explorer. I thought that Triumph, The Brain seemed like a name that Zappa would approve of. We liked it, and now we have Triumph, The Brain Zappa and Pinky.

The bunnies are hanging out in the garage, in the rabbit cage I previously bought for some ornery chickens. We put a waterer in the cage, and an amazon box with a hole cut out for a little nest. They seem to like it. We plan to relocate them to the backyard when it warms up a bit. We will probably have to fence the bunnies off from the rest of the yard.

This morning, there were huge thunderstorms. When we got up, we found that the rooster was nowhere to be found. We assumed he had fled over the fence to the neighbors' yard with the other chickens. If he went to the other neighbors' yards, he probably would have encountered dogs. We weren't worried, because he's fled over the fence to the other chickens before. But we haven't heard him crowing all day. If he just fled next door, we probably would have heard him crowing, and we haven't heard a thing. We thought, hopefully he was just being quiet because of the bad weather, but we are skeptical that this is a reasonable excuse. We hope that he made a good choice in his emigration. If not, he probably didn't survive when the dogs came out. Our feelings are complicated. In light of Snowflake's recent demise, we sort of blame him. If he were a better rooster, he would have protected all of the flock and let himself die before one of the hens got killed. Instead, he ran away and let Snowflake die. It's complicated, though. We bought him thinking he was a hen, and Snowflake took on the role as alpha, and even when it turned out he was a rooster, Snowflake maintained a strong protector role. With Snowflake gone, we fear that the rooster wasn't used to standing his ground when shit got scary, and that he fled during the thunderstorms, wherever he could go. We hope that he turns up, because we don't wish him ill. On the other hand, we knew that we couldn't keep him, because we aren't allowed to keep roosters in town. We were already looking for someone who could take him. In that sense, if he just disappeared, it would be less work for us. But we would still feel sad, because we had grown fond of the guy.

I've got to get up early tomorrow to get the roast in the oven for the rescheduled party. Last time, I cooked all day and had the roast ready about 6:00, to be at the party by 7:00. Tomorrow, the party has been bumped up to 5:00. I need to have the roast in the oven at least an hour earlier. This means I need to get up and get in top gear early, otherwise the roast will still be tough when I need to leave. This is a group in which I have already developed a reputation for bringing good food, and I don't want to let that slip. The curse of expectation. I am a person who loves cooking, though. Making food that people enjoy brings me a deep, visceral pleasure. I can't half-ass it.

EDIT: To clarify: we have only one neighbor who keeps chickens. Our accidental rooster, whom we alternatively call Ivan the Terrible or Mrs. Doubtfire, has gone next door to visit the ladies before. We hope that he went over that fence, so he could mate with the CILFs next door. If he fled over a different fence, he would have instead encountered angry dogs rather than hot CILFs. We hope that he made the right choice. We will wait until tomorrow to see if he is crowing at dawn. If not, we assume the worst. If he were next door with the ladies, we would hear him.


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