Whew! Maybe I would do better with a brain-to-blog interface.

Winter approaches, and I find myself online less, writing fewer letters, living deeper down inside my own head. I wonder how far back this habit goes? I like the idea of it, emotional seasons.

And then of course, recently the news has been so bad. There is nothing to say to mitigate it.

It cheered me up today, of all places as the fish counter at HEB, when I got into a conversation with a man named Calvin, who has a beautiful voice and told me all about Lake Victoria perch while he wrapped up my tilapia and trout. He took one of the gigantic fillets and put it in a bag so I could hold it and feel the texture of it, look up close at the lovely bits of pink and gold in the pale flesh.

It was a delightful moment, to talk to Calvin and to admire that lovely fish. Further research tells me that it’s also called Nile perch, that it’s an invasive species in Lake Victoria and a predator fish. Then all clarity breaks down.

Clearly fish from a lake in Africa does not pass the local-eating test. What I read seemed mostly to say that the fishery is sustainable but unregulated. My go-to app from the Monterey Bay Aquarium, tells me nothing about whether I can eat the thing – only that Nile perch is often mislabeled as barramundi (another delicious fishie).

So confusing! I would eat more fish if I didn’t feel like I have to read three books before buying any. That’s why I have taken up such a habit of line-caught coho salmon in a can. Kind of a pale substitute, though.