joannamauselina

A Slightly Bizarre Day

2012-02-01T12:36:00.000-08:00

Yesterday was a fun day, but it had elements of weirdnessabout it. For starters, it wasTuesday, and, while on some level, I actually knew that it was Tuesday, I wasconvinced that it was really Wednesday. (And consequently that today is Thursday.) My work schedule has nothing definite about it, the onlyconstants being that I work every other weekend, and never on Thursday. Otherthan that, it changes every week. This can lead to confusion, as there are somealmost–but-not-always “not quite constants” about it. One of those is that I usually, but not always, work onTuesday.

I was having that delightful pair, The Twins, for dinner, andI must have checked the calendar at least three times to reassure myself that Iwas on track. I kept telling myself,“Although you seem determined to have it be Wednesday, it really isTuesday.” At one point, I calledRebecca to confirm our movie plans for the next day (Thursday,) and then toldher – “Oh, I forgot that it’s Wednesday and you’re working.” Then this morning I waited and waitedfor her to call to tell me what time we were leaving, and finally called her.She said that she was at work, and had gotten the message about theWednesdayness of that Tuesday, but figured that I had by this time figured outthat it really was Tuesday. And that I was going to work, and not themovies. Well, I hadn’t. What a good thing it was that I calledup a well informed person. I might have gone to the Family Kitchen and choirpractice instead of work. Actually, atthree ten, I would have gotten an outraged phone call from my job asking whereI was. I have gotten this phonecall several times in the past, and I hate it. Once I had copied the schedulewrong and the other time, they had changed my schedule without mentioning it tome!!!!

On the evening previous, my kitchen light had been flickering,so in the morning I ventured out to Home Depot so as to be prepared when it actually did go out. Not unexpectedly, I got lost – but only a little lost. HomeDepot is near the Starbucks main office, and the mermaid can be seen for milesaround. This was a goodlandmark. When I got home with my groceries and light bulbs, I was overcome with a nap attack. I carefully calculated how long it would take to cook mydinner, decided I had time for a nap, set the timer for an hour, and thenMargaret, Tobias and I settled down for a snooze. I awoke an hour later, refreshed, and assembled myingredients for the meal. I was makingChickenless Pot Pie, and a jar of pimento is a sine qua non of this dish. I knew that I had a jar in my pantry,but when I got it out, it looked strange. When I opened it, the jar lid didn’t pop, and the pimento was avermillion slime. Aaaak! What todo. I considered, and decided thatthere was time to walk to the store. I didn’t think the closest stores would have pimento, so I had to gofurther afield. The day was fine,and it was a pleasant walk. Iarrived home with my pimento and barely enough time to be ready when The Twinswere due to arrive. I set to workchopping and stirring when, as I had feared might happen, the light wentout. Bummer! Fixing it was a two person job and I was only one person. Also, it required a ladder and I wasnot sure where mine was. Thislight event was sort of mystic because the very same thing had happened a fewdays ago when The Twins were preparing dinner. Same sort of light bulb even. We calculated that this bulb had lasted seven years. So the odds were against both of ourbulbs going at the same time. Iprobably will be eating by candlelight for the next few days until I find myladder and an assistant to change the bulb. How many Joannas does it take to change an overhead kitchenlight bulb? More than one!

Update: Yay! It's fixed. A tall friend stopped by and did it.

Another Conservative Day

2012-01-27T20:46:00.000-08:00

Life has been fairly bereft of blogworthy eventslately. Humdrum has been theword. But yesterday, Samos and Iwent to lunch and then to the Volunteer Park Conservatory, a favorite place,and one which I have mentioned before. We enjoy going again and again just to say hello to our favoriteplants. When we got there, weheaded straight for the warm, warm, dry cactus room, as it was a very cold dayoutside, and Samos loves the desert. We basked a bit in the heat with the cacti, and then headed for the tropicalroom.

A hungry carnivore!

This is my favorite, but notbecause I love the tropics. Au contraire! It was very hot and very steamy, (my most unfavorite weather) and is definitelynot my chosen milieu. But I dolove the luxurious greenness and, like all ghoulish children, I always need tostop by the carnivorous plants. Little Shop of Horrors is a movie that I always find terrifying, and always enjoy!

A television crew was making a news spot about theconservatory, and we got to be sample visitors – on television. You can see us here. Well, I guess you can't! I can't find the link again. But the above picture was from the King 5 news site.

Me pretending there is not that big thing behind me.

A Post-Snow Day

2012-01-23T10:24:00.000-08:00

Leaves in the melting snow

Some people are never satisfied! My family well knows that I am always complaining that I neverhave a day to do nothing at all but read, knit, and sip tea, and then I hadfour such days, one after another! Snowed inand no going anywhere, unable to do much besides read, knit, and sip tea.Wow! I was really beginning toseriously whine about having toomany perfect days in a row. Each morning, I got up andtold myself that today I would make my way through wind and weather to the store forprovisions, and each day I would decide that tomorrow might be a better choicefor the trek. (I did have to compel myself to stagger off to work oneevening, and was quite happy about being forced out of the house!!) Finally, the snow began to thaw, and Idid voluntarily make the expedition to the store. By this time, it was not such an adventure, but just apleasant walk.

Now that life is back in full swing, I am alreadypining for a day with just books, yarn, and tea.

A Snowy Day

2012-01-17T11:01:00.000-08:00

What a couple of days! All my friends have thoroughly covered the Sunday snowstorm, and it now seems redundant to even talk about it, but here I am with myperspective on matters. Myperspective is – I was really sad that I had to go to work on Sunday, as thesnow seemed to be a foot high, and it was the perfect day to not ventureoutside the door. The perfect dayfor sipping tea and settling in with a good book.

Sunday morning, as I walked to choir practice, thefirst flakes were gently meandering down. I hoped that only a few would meander, but such was not to be. Although many choir members come fromfar away, nearly everyone was there - a good thing – since we were singing aneight part Bruckner Agnus Dei, and even a few folks lacking could have made itimpossible. Jim had the “Lamb of God”from The Messiah on hand as Plan B, but we were able to stick to Plan A, andsing the subtle and exquisite Agnus Dei. Bruckner and I have had issues in the past, especially with Agnus Deis. A couple of years ago, we were singingdifferent one, and it was really difficult. At least for me, it was. I had practiced and practiced and felt that I had it downpat. Then, during the actualperformance, I had a little mind blink, and totally lost the place. Maybe I hadturned two pages at once or something, but I simply could not find where wewere, and was getting more and more frantic. Not helpful, of course. I tried to shrink into an inconspicuous little speck, butfailed at that and was caught out. I believe I realized where we were about twomeasures before the end of the piece. Another time we were singing a Bruckner Agnus Dei, and I got all wobblyand faint. Horrors! Passing out at church would be theworst. (Oddly, people seem to doit all the time. All that kneelingand standing up, I imagine.) I satdown and sang, feeling both woozy and conspicuous, but happily, the worst didnot happen. This Sunday, the spellwas broken, and the Agnus Dei was mercifully uneventful. And was very beautiful.

On the way home, there were more flakes wafting down,but they seemed to disappear just as they reached the earth. Then, as I wasgetting dressed for work, the heavens opened, and not gentle flakes, but hugeblobs came hurtling down. In a veryshort time, there seemed to be at least a foot-thick carpet on the ground. Margaret was ecstatic, but I was less pleased, as I had toslog through it to get to work and, worse yet, slog home again atmidnight. As I was coming home onmy usual route through Seattle U, I was suddenly bewildered and couldn’t findmy path. How can the snow havemade things so confusing, I wondered. The path goes between some trees and a lot of bushes, and Ifinally realized that one of the trees had fallen, changing the landscapeentirely. The photo is taken justafter I made my way around the fallen tree. Aside from the worry about slipping on the glassy ice, Ialways enjoy walking home from work in the snow, seeing the students frolickingin the wee hours, sledding and making snowpeople, and this evening was noexception.

And on Monday, I did have the perfect snow day,sipping tea and reading my book.

O heavens! I just looked out the window, and it is coming down again, and not in gentle single flecks, but in hearty big feather factory bunches. I hope I enjoy walking home from work again tonight. Somehow, coming through the snow at midnight seems much nicer in retrospect than in prospect.

A Very Church-filled Day

2012-01-13T23:00:00.000-08:00

Some of the instruments for the concert

This morning, my choir sang at a funeral. We were to be there at ten to rehearse for the eleveno’clock service. I consideredeating a little pick-me-up first, but given that we had to be there so (for me,anyway,) early, I made do with a couple of cups of tea, and was on my way. I didn’t know the principal party, but it seems that he was awonderful fellow, loved by all who knew him, and sure to be sorely missed bymany. Consequently, the funeralwas lengthy. In fact, we didn’tleave till nearly one-thirty. Iwas famished, and getting very whiney. I scurried home to my breakfast – now lunch, gobbled it up, and quickly feltmuch better. This all brought tomind the memorial mass our choir sang when the Pope John Paul II died. Rebecca and I planned to sing at the mass,and then go to lunch before I went to work. Well, that one went on until it was actually time to go towork – so late that I had to hurry to avoid being late. And once again, I had left the housewithout a proper breakfast. By thetime I got to work at three, I was beyond hungry, and was actually shaking,nearly crying. My boss, a faithfulCatholic, asked what was amiss, and I told her about the mass and the Pope. Sheassumed that I was all upset about the death of the Pope, while in fact, it wasjust lack of food, and the even worse lack of prospect of getting anysoon. She felt so sorry for me inmy sorrow, that she let me go home!!! I didn’t set her straight until years later.

This evening, I was a (this time, well fed) volunteer usheretteat a fabulous Cathedral concert – a staged production of several shortoratorios by Carissimi and one by Charpentier. This was a much more intimate performance than that at theOpera House, and hence, was even more amazing. Those opera stars don’t really even seem human- they aremore like supermen and women, from another world. These singers were very human, right there in front of us,and very fabulous. I marveled thata regular person can sing like they did. Well, not regular, but a real person – one whom one could talk to andmaybe run into at the races. I’mnot sure why I said “at the races.” That was just the first place which came to mind. The races are one of the last places I would ever go. I like them inDick Francis’s books, but that’s it. The essence of tedium in my mind. But à chacun son goût. But again, maybe it was because I love the Marx Brothers, and they went to both the opera and the races! That must be it.

A Chickenless Day

2012-01-13T16:40:00.000-08:00

A whileago, Crafty Cakewagon presented a recipe for vegan chicken and dumplings. My mother-in-law used to make chickenand dumplings, and I loved them. Idecided to make Crafty’s vegan version myself, but got sidetracked by images ofchicken pot pie, which my own mother made, and which I used to make in my youngbride days – the days when a chicken made three meals, the third, eithersomething like this, or perhaps chicken noodle soup. This vegetarian version turned out to be quite tasty. It is not for the faint of heart, as ithas a lot of butter, and hence, is not very heart healthy. But that makes it all the better!

No-Chicken Pot Pie

For the (not-chicken) innards:

1 large onion, chopped,

4 cloves garlic sliced,

1 cup celery, chopped,

4 medium carrots, diced,

2 cups sliced mushrooms,

1 cup frozen peas,

small jar pimentos, drained

For the sauce:

6 T butter,

6 T flour,

½ t salt and some pepper,

1 3/4 C broth, (I used kosher chicken broth powder in 1 cupwater and ¾ cup wine,)

2/3 C milk,

For the crust:

1 cup self-rising (raising?) flour,

pepper,

Walnut sized glob of butter (a large walnut,)

Enough milk to get it all moist – start with ¼ cup.

Set the oven for 400°

Sauté the onions until translucent. Add the garlic and give it a few more stirs. Add the celery and carrots, and sautéuntil the carrots are softened a bit. Stir in the mushrooms and stir till the mushrooms are cooked and themushroom juice has mostly evaporated. Drop in the pimento, and set the wholething aside.

In another pan, cook the butter until it is bubbling. Stir in the flour and whisk until themixture is very smooth. Add thesalt and pepper. Slowly whisk inthe liquids, and continue whisking until you have a very thick sauce. Cook at least a minute, stirring all thewhile. Gently fold in thevegetables. Transfer the mixtureto the oiled dish in which you plan to bake it.

Prepare the biscuit crust. Cut the butter into the self-raising flour until it has theconsistency of coarse meal. Dumpthe whole thing on one end of a clean work surface. With the palm of your hand, squoosh the flour mixture, about1/5 cup at time, across the work surface (frissage.) This incorporates the butter nicely. Put this mixture back in its bowl andslowly add the milk, tossing the flour gently to mix it in. When the dough is barely moistthroughout, gather it into a ball, and, on a floured surface, pat it intothe shape to fit the top of yourbaking dish.

Lay the biscuit dough on the vegetable mixture, and bake forabout 15 minutes, or until the crust is a bit golden.

An Easygoing Day

2012-01-09T22:31:00.000-08:00

Myfaithful readers will know that I am an inveterate procrastinator. "Mañana!” is one of my guiding principles. For example, I have three Aran sweaters, one given to me by my mother,which I seldom wear, as I want to keep it in its relatively pristine condition,and to have a nice sweater to wear when I have need to appear really clean. The second is one I knitted for Rebeccamore than twenty years ago, which she rejected, saying it was too white. She was remembering that lovely greasywith lanolin grey-white of the true Aran yarn with which I had knitted her sweaters in Ireland when shewas little. I don’t think one canget that delightfully smelly yarn anymore. It was a real breath of the Auld Sod, with the scent ofIrish sheep, and infused with tiny Irish twigs. Insteadof the despised overly white cardigan, she demanded one that I had knitted for myself many years previous, now at least forty years old and still going. Thatone could never be accused of excessive whiteness. Its non-whiteness was notfrom lanolin, however, but rather from years of constant wear. She gave me backthe reviled too-white one which since has become a nice ecru – verging on beige. And once again, not from lanolin. My third Aran was given to me by anIrish friend, and was knitted by her sister. This alone makes it precious, quite aside from it being agreat sweater with nice pockets. Ilove these sweaters, and have worn one or the other nearly every day – andevery night for quite a few years. My house is cold and I prefer to put on a sweater rather than turn up theheat. Finally, I decided thatafter all those years of constant wear, they needed a bath. But another year went by while Ithought about giving them one. Then as the need became moreimperative, I could delay no longer, but even then, I put that unpleasant job off for another month or two. So finally, I did steel myself, washed them, and laid them out on my sweaterdrying rack. I feared that Tobiaswould sit on them, but he didn’t. After they were dry and I had put them back into circulation, I ditheredabout for a few more days about putting away the rack. It is not fun to assemble or to disassemble.I was awaiting the perfect moment. That moment came when I found a very large kitty using the rack for ahammock, and the hammock on the verge of collapsing. Sometimes one just needs a little inspiration beforespringing (or in my case, slouching) into action.

A Pre-New Year's Day

2011-12-31T12:52:00.000-08:00

Usually, Rebecca comes with me and helps me find the perfect newcalendar, but this year she was unavailable. For the previous several years, I had gotten a cute Dick and Jane calendar, but last year (and again this year,) I couldn't find one. Instead, she found something similar for my last year’s calendar, an adorable one withEnglish schoolroom posters. It was so sweet that it made me happy every time I looked at it. Do you detect a calendar preference theme here?

The store at which we usually had themost success involved a car trip, and so to avoid that, I went to a fabulous bookstore within walking distance. I had failed there in the calendar search before, but decided to beoptimistic. While I had made adecision to feel this way, I think it didn’t really penetrate to my inner being. It was a cold day, so I dressedup too warmly. By the time I gotthere, and was looking through the calendars, I was so hot that I only wanted to go home and takeoff most of my clothes so as to cool off, and then to take a nap. So I decided that all the calendarswere ugly and went home. The nextday, I really had to get down to business. Margaret was thrilled to come with me, but she did not giveme much advice about my calendar selection.

And the selection was vast!

There was something for every taste!

Except mine. Finally, Ichose two, neither the perfect calendar, but both pretty near perfect. And so a good way to start the NewYear.

Which brings me to say,

“A most happy and blessed New Year toyou and yours!”

A Baking Day

2011-12-27T15:36:00.000-08:00

The foremost one is from Martha's pistachio biscotti recipe. The others are date.

I was making biscotti variations to give for Christmaspresents, and was searching for the perfect recipe. I think the winner was a recipe my friend Martha gave me forbiscotti with pistachios and orange zest, made with lots ofbutter. I had made nice ones withalmonds, cranberries, anise – all the usual, and they were good, but Martha’srecipe was way the best. Inneed of variety, I decided to make date and orange biscotti, given that I hadlots of dates and lots of oranges. I was hopeful, but when I tried them, they were a little on the yuckyside. Actually, not a little, but a lot! I can’t give these aspresents, I thought. The only thingis to eat them myself. Usually, Ihave one or at most two biscotti for my late night snack with my last cup oftea. On day one, I almosthad to choke them down, but by the third day, I quite liked them. By the fourth day, I liked them a lot.Now I am not sure if they improved with age, or if they are an acquired tastewhich it took me several days to acquire. Or maybe both. Anyhow, hereis the recipe.

Date Biscotti

2 cups (260 grams) flour,

1 tsp. baking powder,

1/8 tsp salt,

¾ cup (150 grams) sugar,

3 eggs,

1 tsp vanilla extract,

Zest from two oranges,

1 cup (160 grams) chopped dates.

Heat the oven to 300°, and prepare a cookie sheet by lining it with parchment or using a Silpat.

In a small bowl, mix together the flour, baking powder andsalt an set aside. In the bowl ofyour electric mixer, beat the sugar and eggs together until soft andfoamy. Stir in the vanilla andorange zest. Fold in the dates and then the flour until just mixed. Do not overbeat.

On a lightly floured surface, form the dough into a log, about10 inches long. Transfer the logto the prepared baking sheet. Bakefor about 30 minutes, or until firm in the middle. When done, let it cool on a wire rack for about 10 minutes,then transfer it to a work surface, and cut into slices about 2 cm thick. Cut on the diagonal for slightly longerbiscotti*. Bake the slices forabout 10 minutes and then turn them over and bake for 10 more minutes. Let them cool, and then store in anairtight tin.

*Martha says that at this point, you can freeze biscotti, andthen do the second baking when you are about to greet your guests. Not having a roomy freezer, I have nottried this, but Martha knows everything, and is the world’s best cook, so Iconfidently pass the tip on.

A Blessed Day

2011-12-24T20:08:00.000-08:00

I am hoping that all of you have a blessed and happy Christmas!

My friend Roseann made this paról for me years and years ago. It is getting a bit faded, but is still one of my favorite things! Pictured are Little Rachael, then about two years old, Farnaby - the perfect cat, God rest his soul, and my little Cairn terrier Leslie, God rest his also, as they all greeting Baby Jesus on his birthday in the manger.

A Dark Day

2011-12-21T10:35:00.000-08:00

You may have noticed that the days are getting very short, andvery dark. In fact, today is thedarkest – or at any rate, the shortest. It is nice and bright right now. This is the time of the year when a fear of the dark arises, but I meanonly a certain sort of dark. Notthe comfy kind God sends us everyDecember, but - Blackouts! We seemto always be having them. And ofcourse, they never come at a convenient time. (Those times would be when one is asleep or not athome. There is no other convenienttime. If one wants no lights, onecan manage that without the help of the electrical power company.) Ever since the last one, I have beenplanning to become better prepared. That time, I had to paw through drawers, searching for my Advent Wreath supplies to find a candle. As each procrastinating day passed, Iworried a bit more. Both aboutbeing caught in the dark again, and about being such an incorrigibledilly-dallier. I put everythingoff, especially if it involves getting in the car and going somewhere. Finally, I decided to commit. I asked Becca if she would go to thehardware store with me. Happily,she agreed, and off we went to Madison Park Hardware, my favorite hardwarestore, especially now that all my other favorite hardware stores have beenswallowed up by the mega monster ones. This one is walk-to-able, but only if you have all day, and want to comeup a very long, tall hill on the way home. It is lots of fun to go to, andevery time I do, I find some little thing that I previously hadn’t realized thatI absolutely needed. Margaret, who came along, loves to gobecause there are dog treats. Thefriendly folk there helped us find the perfect blackout ware, and assured methat since I now was prepared, it was very unlikely that such a thing would happensoon. I hope he is right, but ifhe isn’t, I am ready.

"Nothingis so fatiguing as the eternal hanging on of an uncompleted task."~William James

Another Surgical Day

2011-12-20T20:21:00.000-08:00

The Saga of the Auntly Surgeries goes on! Pauline went under the knife again, this time for a littlenose lesion. And, ratherhorrifyingly, they snipped off a bit of her ear to fill in the spot on hernose. Yikes! She is holding up well, despite anexperience that would traumatize me utterly. I went to visit today, and to do a dressing change. She made me lunch, our usual favorite –tomato soup with crackers and cheese floating in it, and I brought her sometiny Mexican cream puffs – direct from the freezer section of Grocery Outlet,my favorite grocery store. Ithought they were yummy. Paulineclaimed that she had had a surfeit of lunch, and only ate one, but I, piggythat I am, gobbled up – dare I tell you? – four. In my defense, they were really tiny. And really delicious!

Yet Another Fun Evening with Friends

2011-12-15T15:51:00.000-08:00

A fun evening with friends, family, and food! Andgames!./;l----------------==”””” (Tobias typed the previous. At least there is one person who is aworse typist than I am. Or do cats count? Probably not.) Anyway, we had a great evening. Three of the people present are veryinto winning. The fourth doesn’tcare that much. This is fortunate,as she seldom wins no matter what she is playing. Except maybe solitaire. And that is not really a competitive sport, is it. Perhaps she wins that because there isno one to talk to, and to distract her from the matter at hand. I flatter myself that my poorperformance at games is related to my friendly social self. More interested in everyone else andwhat they have to say than in winning.

We played several games which had “Charades” elements to them,and Rachael turned out to be a brilliant “Charade” artiste! That was a beat-the-clock team sport,and we beat it every time! Then weplayed Sorry! No team spiritthere! Just tigerish malice aseveryone leapt on another’s man, and sneered, “Sorry!” in a manner that conveyed littlesorrow. The game was neckand neck most of the way, but in the home stretch, Rachael galloped in as theclear winner.

Rachael the winner!

I made this cake a coupleof weeks ago for Ana, and it was so good that I made it again. I won't say it is the best cake I have ever made,but it is possibly the best chocolate cake. And it has a mystery ingredient – Beets! Who would think that a beet cake couldbe so yummy!

A Wonderfully Musical Day

2011-12-10T16:51:00.001-08:00

December is such a wonderful musical month. There is music of every kind,everywhere. The choir room is a beehive, as we prepare for multi-musicalservices and events. One of the highlights of these, is our annual trip toProvidence Mount St. Vincent, anearby retirement home run by the Sisters of Providence. Here, in their lovely chapel, we haveone of our most appreciative audiences, a great sing-along accompanimentchorus. If I were the emcee ofthis event, I would stand there and say, “Um, ah – here is the St. James choirto sing for you,” – if I could even get that much out, and that would be about the most one could expect from tongue tied me. But our director, Dr.Savage (Jim), is a genius at bringing out the best in every audience, andmaking every event a real event, and a very wonderfully fun, meaningful, orsacred event, as the occasion warrants. And today warranted a smattering of all three.

Jim with Jeanie, and her Mom

Chorister Ward and a few of his Mt. St. Vincent friends, with Martha and her husband Joe behind them.

One of our ordinary sopranos – oops! Excuse me!Sopranos are never ordinary, are they! One of our sopranos, Emmy Purainer, one who usually blendsinto the soprano crowd, has for the last several years, sung a German carol,and every time, I am totally blown away by it. She is really extraordinary! Such simple, but soulful songs, and Emmy, usually one of many, brings her all(along with her amazingly beautiful voice) to her Weinachtslied. It is always a tear jerker, and for me, the highlight of the event. Emmy is really great, and I wish I could listen to her more often.

Resident, Fr. Gallagher, who, as pastor of St. James, hired Jim 30 years ago, and Sister Ann

Oh Happy Day!

2011-12-07T12:15:00.001-08:00

A few months ago, maybe in July, during a slow evening at work, I looked over the shoulder ofmy friend Virginia as she sat at her computer and appeared to be virtuallyshopping. This was very atypicalfor Virginia, who is not usually an on-line shopper. What’s more, she appeared too be shopping for Christmaslights! “Whatcha doin’?” Iasked. “Looking at Christmaslights,” she replied, stating the obvious. “It’s July,” I replied, stating the even more obvious. She explained that her Christmas lightshad just burned out. “So didmine,” I moaned. We comparednotes, and discussed the joy of Christmas lights and how we wanted them allyear long, as they made us so happy, and the sorrow of not being able toreplace the recently deceased ones in July. We realized that we would just have to wait. This year, however, we would knowbetter, and would lay in a supply.

Oh happy day! Ihad been keeping my eye peeled for the arrival of the Christmas doodads at myfavorite grocery store, and finally they came! I bought a bunch, and bought a bunch again the nextweek. And now they are finally up,and up, I hope, for the whole year till the doodads arrive again in 2012.

I gave them to John, my handyman, to string up, and when Istaggered home from work that night at midnight, there they were. I was so happy to see them. The warm glow on my front porch gave mea little rush of warm welcoming glow inside, and does again every night when Icome home through the dark and cold. “Here we are,” they say. “Your puppy and kitty are waiting for you, and you three can all becomfy and warm now.”

I have them in my sitting room as well, and am happy everytime I walk past them. Note the UFO hovering outside over my garden.

Squash Soup

2011-12-04T13:42:00.001-08:00

Squash soup

This recipe is inspired by the winter squash soup inVegetarian Cooking for Everyone by Deborah Madison.

I would have made this soup entirely with kabocha squash, andthat is what I would advise you to do, but the one I purchased had way lessinnards than it seemed to have when I got it. In the interests of journalistictransparency, I am including the butternut squash that I actually used as partof the total squash. (See previous post.)

A large kabocha squash, (no need to peel it - the kabocha skinwill be soft enough to go in the soup, but the butternut skin is very tough.)

Half a medium sized butternut squash – peeled and cut intoinch cubes, (about 4 cups total squash after roasting,)

6 cloves garlic sliced,

Olive oil, about ¼ cup,

A small bunch of sage leaves,

A large white or yellow onion, chopped,

A cup of chopped celery,

3 medium carrots chopped,

6 cups vegetable broth,

About 12 grinds of pepper,

Salt if needed

About a teaspoon fresh thyme

¼ cup parsley,

¼ cup candied pepitas*

some feta cheese, crumpled.

Cut the kabocha in half, remove the seeds and fibers, andbrush the halves of the kabocha and the chunks of butternut with olive oil. (I cut the butternut intocubic inch chunks, as it was thicker, tougher, and would take more time tocook.) Put the garlic clovesin the kabocha halves, turn them onto a cookie sheet, cut side down. Roast at375° for about half an hour, until tender..

Meanwhile, in a small pan, fry the sage leaves for about aminute, until they are dark. Remove the leaves from the oil, and set them aside on a paper towel.

In your soup pot, using sage leaf oil, sauté the onion untiltranslucent, add the celery and carrot for a few turns. When the squash is ready, add it to thevegetables, and give a few more turns. Add the broth, the thyme, the pepper, and salt if needed. Simmer for about twenty minutes, oruntil all the vegetables are softened. Moosh it up with your immersion blender until mostly smooth, but with afew chunks remaining to give a more interesting texture. Stir in the chopped parsley.

Garnish with sage leaves, and pass around the pepitas and fetacheese in separate bowls for a further individual garnish.

Candied pepitas

¼ cup pepitas

2 tablespoons (or more) sugar

Put the pepitas and the sugar in a small frying pan, and stirconstantly over high heat until the sugar melts and the pipitas arecoated. Add more sugar ifnecessary. That is all there is toit.

A rather rushed, but fun day

2011-12-03T11:26:00.001-08:00

Fennel, grapefruit, avocado, and pomegranate salad

In keeping with our family tradition of seldom having ourbirthday or Christmas presents ready on time, Ana and Becca gave me a littlebirthday party – only about six weeks after my birthday, but that wasfine. Better late than never, andeven better than that – when you feel like it, rather than when you are obligedto. Ana’s birthday is the dayafter mine, so we were celebrating that as well.

I made us a squash soup, which turned out to be one of the bestsoups I ever ate. And Becca made asalad which was one of the prettiest salads I ever ate. I had my morning planned to the minuteso that I could have lunch on time. I had gotten a kabocha squash, per the instructions of Rebecca, who saidit would be way more delicious than my usual butternut squash. Well, as usual, she was absolutelyright, but while more delicious, it also had a lot more air in it. When I opened it up in the morning, Irealized that it would be way not enough for my soup, and I would have to go tothe store and get more squash. AsI was pondering this, Becca called and said could I come get her so she coulddo her laundry. Sigh. Well, I had to go out anyway, so I toldher to get it packed up and I would be there soon. We got the laundry and another squash, and as she was tryingto unlock my door, she couldn’t. She didn't have her keys. Werealized that with the scramble to trying get the bundles of laundry out herdoor while not letting Maria the cat get out, the keys were left in the keyhole. So a rush trip back. Then we realized that we needed to stopat the store again to get more ice cream. Aaargh! When we got back, I made my soup, but the hour for the guests wasarriving (along with the guests themselves,) so I asked her to make the salad, as I wasn’t going to have time. She informed me that I would have hadtime if I were more efficient. Hmmmmmm. She wouldhave been more gracious about doing this, if not that she was, in true Ryantradition, desperately putting the finishing touches on the scarf she wasmaking for Ana’s birthday present. That too, was finished in the nick of time, and like the salad, wasbeautiful.

The soup was a treat, the salad was beautiful, as well asyummy, the party was fun, and my present was great. It was a kit I had tried to purchase a year ago, but it hadgone out of print, so to speak. Now it was available again, and Ana and Becca combined to get it forme. So I have a bunch of funknitting to look forward to, and I hope, a nice sweater as well.

Soup recipe to follow.

2011-11-26T21:59:00.001-08:00

We had a wonderful Thanksgiving, for which, of course, I am thankful. Therewas none of the delightful acrimonious drama that one so often reads about inthe advice columns. No one misbehaved, there were no ill feelings. But then, there never is, as we all prettymuch love one another. There isoccasional drama, as the time, years ago, when my grandfather went to thebathroom which is on the back porch, and accidently locked himself out of thehouse. No one missed him for quitea while. When someone finally did,and went to let him in, he was sputtering with rage. Another time, my mothersaid that she was too hot, so Dakki suggested that she take her clothes off,and she did. Not quite all ofthem, of course, but enough of them to seriously embarrass her daughter. There was none of that this year, butit was a fun, lively gathering nonetheless.

Rachael, Dakki, and Patten

St. Cecilia's Day

2011-11-22T23:30:00.000-08:00

“Oh Heaven forbid! I forgot to bring the dips! Is there time to go home and get it before practice starts? NO!!! Horrors!” With that, I woke up from my nap, grateful to realize thatit was only a dream, choir practice was not about to start in fifteen minutes,and I had not forgotten the dip. We were having a St. Cecilia’s Day party during the rehearsal, and myfriend Martha had volunteered to cater the event, with a little help fromme. I was making my favoritecookie recipe (actually, one of my many favorite cookie recipes, as I am atremendous fan of nearly all cookies,) veggies, and two dips.

A while ago, Rebecca invited the Aunties to dinner, andprepared many delicacies, but the hit of the evening was the French saladdressing she made to put on iceberg lettuce. She selected this because Dakki is such a culinarystick-in-the-mud, and usually only likes things she has eaten since the age ofthree. This dressing seemed prettyretro, and therefore likely to appeal to her. But surprise! We all loved it, and gobbled up the entire batch. It was one of the best salad dressingsI ever ate, zippy and zingy, but not overly so. I thought it would make a nicevegetable dip, but in its salad dressing form, would be too messy. So I increased the cornstarch tothicken it up, and voila! A verysuccessful dip.

You can find the original recipe here. I increased the cornstarch to 1.5tablespoons, and this produced a nice thick, but not too thick dip, which stuckto the vegetables without dribbling down one’s front.

A Make-Ahead Day

2011-11-18T13:14:00.001-08:00

Several months ago, I got a fabulous new rice cooker. Rebecca had been carping on theinadequacy of the one I had, and singing the virtues of the one she had. I had to admit that I was a littlejealous of hers, but was feeling a certain defensive attachment to my relativelynew, but seemingly antediluvian model. All it did was cook rice! What good is that! Beforeshe goes to bed, Rebecca sets hers up to have a nice oatmeal porridge breakfastready when she has finished her bath and is ready to eat it in the morning. Before she goes to work, she tells it to have her dinnerready when she arrives home. Nomatter what sort of rice she is preparing, her rice cooker knows just what isneeded. I think the kicker might have been perfectly cooked polenta. How can one argue against that? Finally, I no longer could, and so Igave in and got one. I had planned to tell you all about itat the time. I prepared something luscious and beautiful, and took pictures. And then I got distracted and onto something else, so youmissed out on the rice cooker news flash.

Brown rice made in the new cooker - a success!

I made lovely brown rice (always a challenge in my old one),and some great polenta (not even possible in the old one,) but I had yet to tryout its spectacular “having-dinner-ready-when-you-get-home” function. The time had come! OnSundays, I sing with the Women’s Schola at the 1730 Mass, and when I get home,I am usually totally knackered and hungry as a wolf. Knowing that when I arrived home, if there was nothingready, I would eat something awful just to quickly fill the void, I decided tohave some yummy oat porridge ready on my return. I used Rebecca’s recipe and put in an apple, a banana, andsome raisins. It was a wonderfulthing to come home - tired, bedraggled, and starving - to find this repastwaiting.

Delightful Dinner Oatmeal

The next week I had polenta and some roasted vegetableswaiting. What a delight. Almost like having a cook preparing ameal while you are out. Anotherday, I made porridge again, this time with blueberries. Purple oatmeal! Not very photogenic, but delicious.

As you can see, I am not one who requires breakfast food inthe morning and dinner food in the evening. I think apple pie, pizza, or leftover Chinese food make an excellent breakfast, and scrambled eggs or oatmealmake an delightful dinner.

First rice prepared in new cooker

PS. The above oatmeal is made from steel-cut oats. I wrote about making oatmeal with rolled oats several years ago. You can read that here. As you can see, I am a great fan of oatmeal. Odd, since in my youth, the only way I liked oats was in a cookie.

A Beautifying Day

2011-11-12T09:39:00.001-08:00

Every time my home phone rings, I get a little nervous,wondering who it is, and if it is ringing to alert me to some disaster. This fear stems from the time myparents began to get very frail, and it too often actually was someone fromtheir residence calling to alert me to some new problem. Now that my parents have earned theirheavenly reward, and thus there are no more calls from Exeter House, and since most people callme on my cell phone, I still worry. The only folk who call me on that phone are the aunties , and one has to worry about them at least a little, or my jobasking why I am not there (fortunately, I only get this call about once everyfive years when I, or more often, they, have somehow mixed up my schedule)– orcould I pleeeeeese come in and work extra. I get this call fairly frequently. Being a girl who can’tsay no, I always wait for the answering machine to tell me who it is and whatthey want before I answer. Thatway, I don’t have to say that, no, I can’t work extra. I just consider a moment, decide Ireally don’t want to work extra, listen to them plead, and then say nothing atall. So I was being my usualcautious self when the call came from my favorite grocery store. I had won the drawing for a giftcertificate! The certificate wouldbe for the amount of the money that my receipt (the drawing ticket) said I had saved. Well, thanks to my friend Marta (notthe Marta with the blog on my sidebar, but a different Marta, also in mychoir), I had saved quite a lot. Ioften meet her there, especially after church on Sunday, and we sometimes gothrough the aisles together. ThisSunday, she pointed out a facial cream which she had tried and liked. Its original price was $56, but atfabulous Grocery Outlet, it was only $6!

What a bargain! She suggested I try it, I could not resist,and so I bought some. At hersuggestion, I also got these facial masque treatment things (60¢ each) to tryas well. She had purchased one the week before, but not tried it out yet. Ithought that perhaps I could transform myself from an old hag into a sparklingyoung beauty! Rebecca and I gaveit a go, and found it a little messy. Also a little difficult to drink one’s tea without getting asip of face goo along with the tea. I used a straw, but Becca gave up on tea and just waited. She didn’t do tea with a straw. Not hot tea anyway. Mine, being cooled with a judiciousdollop of milk, was tepid enough to sip up like a nice ice cream soda.

After our beauty treatment, we went to Grocery Outlet tocollect my prize. I told her Iwould get her a present with my winnings, but all she got was a jar of peachesand another of olives. I wouldnever be so restrained if my mom were treating.

P.S. Still an old hag.

Yet Another Grateful Day

2011-11-07T09:04:00.000-08:00

Every “semester,” our choir has a “Men Only” Sunday and a “Women Only”Sunday, giving everyone one Sunday off. I love to go to Mass on Men’s Sunday, because it is one of the raretimes I can truly appreciate the beauty of the choir, even if only half of itis singing. Often, the men arejoined by the astonishing Schola Cantorum, the St. James children’s choir, andsometimes by an orchestra (or perhaps an orchestralet, as was the case today.) Given the whole daylight savingsbusiness, and that I worked the evening before, and had to work again thatevening, I decided to not set my alarm, but to strive to wake up on timenaturally. At some ungodly hour myphone rang, and my first thought was, “It’s not really Men Only Sunday, andsomeone is calling to see why I am not at choir practice.” I looked at the caller ID and it wasRachael, making this an even more likely possibility, as she is not an earlymorning girl, except by extreme necessity. I looked at the clock. If I were going to make it to church on time, I would have to leap outof bed right that minute, and scurry around like a dervish – getting dressedand feeding the furry folk with lightening speed. But I just couldnot stir. I lay there and lamentedmy laziness, but still could not move. When I finally did emerge and stumbled down to make my tea and reset theclocks, I got a glorious surprise. I had mistaken the way Daylight Savings Time works, and it was TWO hoursearlier than I thought it was. Hurrah! Now I was able to dasharound, feeding and pottying everyone, and getting dressed. The morning was autumn-glorious, allscarlet and golden, and when I got to church, the service was as exquisitelybeautiful as ever, but the music…. It was divine. As childrenand the men sang Kyrie from Haydn’s St. Nicholas Mass, I had to fight backtears. Later in the Mass, as theysang the Biebl Ave Maria, I surrendered and gave up the fight altogether. We who go to St. James are certainlyblest in our wonderful parish!

It was difficult to get good photos unobtrusively, and these were the best I could do.

A Day Full of Gratitude

2011-11-07T08:17:00.000-08:00

Wow! What an amazingsurprise! My birthday packet frommy friend Sabine arrived a day or two late, so I saved it for the perfectmoment to open it – a leisurely moment with a cup of tea and a friend to sharemy pleasure. I was astonished at its wonderfulness, which you cannot reallyappreciate from the picture. And….one of the best things – A Verena sock magazine, an annual favorite, is not even in the picture, because I had it onmy bed to read and forgot to put it back in the box for the photo shoot. Thank you again, Sabine!

A catty day

2011-11-01T23:01:00.000-07:00

I mentioned to a friend at work that I had a blog, and he asked, “Oh, are you one of those people whowrite blogs about their cat?” Ihesitated. “Well, maybe a little.” But I am sure you are all interested inTobias’s doings. Here he is beingadorable.

And here he is being a little naughty, sitting in my drawer, pretending not to notice me glaring at him, wanting him to move along so I can close the drawer.

2011-10-27T22:33:00.000-07:00

Everyyear, I look forward to All Saints’ Day, and the Requiem Mass at St.James. Most often, it is Mozart,but occasionally we sing another setting. This year, it is Fauré, utterly beautiful,and absolutely comforting. Mozart’s Requiem leads us through the horrors of hell, past the slobbering, salivating mouth of the lion, into the profoundpit of darkness, and finally into theeternal light and the merciful arms of Pie Jesu, but the trip isterrifying. Fauré, on the other hand, is confident from thebeginning that the heavenly light is there waiting for him. The music is all light and love.

Many, many years ago, I attended this Mass at St.James, and was looking forward to being exquisitely moved by the beauty of theservice itself, and by the silken music of Fauré. Unfortunately, there was a little old lady sitting behindme, and she was chattering throughout the whole Mass. I will give her thebenefit of thinking that possibly she was praying aloud. However, I doubt that that was it. She was pretty annoying, to say theleast. During one of the mostbeautiful and solemn parts of the Mass, I turned around and scowled ather. She glowered at me, and then poppedme on the head with her prayer book. I tried to shrink into a mere nothing, but I daresay, I failed.

Another Fun Day!

2011-10-24T22:19:00.000-07:00

Not the Opera House, and also not Pisa!

What is itabout operas and dental chairs? Assoon as I lie back into the dentist’s chair, and get all set up with wires, rubberdams, pickers and pokers, and whatever else is needed in my mouth, I am suddenly overcome with totallyirresistible need to sneeze. Similarly,shortly after I settle into my opera house seat, the overture ends, and anexpectant silence ensues as we wait for the singing to start, I am overwhelmedby an uncontrollable coughing fit. Inevitable and Horrible.

Armedwith cough drops, pre-unwrapped, so as to avoid paper rattling during theprogram, Rebecca and I made our way to the Opera House for Carmen. “Not my favorite opera,” I toldher. “In fact, I don’t like it atall.” “Why not?"she wanted to know. “The story is so stupid.” She gaped! “They’re allstupid stories,” she exclaimed. “That isn’t usually a problem.” “This is stupid in adifferent way. Everyone in it ishorrible. They deserve what theyget.” She was shocked at my callousness. There have been other operas that were“not my favorites," but when I finally saw them, they were elevated tofavorites after all - for example, Bluebeard. Becca loved to listen to it when she was little, but Ithought it was waaaaay too creepy, despite being Bartok, who actually is afavorite. She had to listen to itwhen I wasn’t home. But what is too creepy to listen to as you do the dishes,or such like, may be fun in an actual opera. I could happily listen to Carmen when I was doing dishes, oranything else, for that matter (except sitting there actually watching it,) aslong as I didn’t know what was supposed to be happening. The music is wonderful– sing along fun, in fact. Also infact, there was an old (very old) fellow sitting right behind us who was doingjust that. We kept hoping that hisequally old wife would hush him, but she didn’t. Not an opera enhancingexperience. But sort of cute, andso not as annoying as one might expect. Years ago, Rachael’s fifth grade put on “Sound of Music,” and a little boy, aboutfour, sitting behind us, lustily sang along with every song. Ienjoyed him a lot, and wanted to sing along myself, but, of course, didn’t dare.

So … Carmen is still not my favorite opera! But on the positive side, I met my friend, the Bantam of the Opera – aka Mary Burt - whose chicken purse I had admired long ago. It was fun to see her and her beautiful purse again.

Also not the Opera House, but one of the county buildings I went to on a day of tedious errands.

A Weird Evening

2011-10-18T09:59:00.000-07:00

As Itrudged home from the evening service on Sunday, I was planning thedinner I would fix for myself. My mouth watered as I thought about it! My idea was to slice up an onion, andsauté it till beautifully translucent, add a clove or two of sliced garlic andgive that a few turns, and then dump in a bagful of spinach. In just a couple of stirs, that wouldbe nicely wilted and wonderful. (Ilove spinach altogether and in any form.) When the spinach was nearly ready and nicely salted and peppered, Iwould plop in an egg and poach it in the spinach with the pan covered so thetop of the egg would get cooked more quickly. Not too cooked though – just still nice and runny – but nottoo runny. Mmmmmmmmmm! I pictured the whole process as Itrotted along through the brisk autumn air. I could not wait, and knew that I could have this ready within minutes of stepping in my door. And sure enough, I did. Itwas so lovely that I debated getting my camera and taking a blog picture. But no, the light was too dim, and Iwas too hungry! I sat down, poured myself a nice glass of wine to accompany mymeal, and ….. blip …… No lights. No lights anywhere. My kitchen was dark as the inside of acow. The whole neighborhood wasdark as the inside of a cow! What to do? Eat in the dark?That didn’t sound good, especially with a poached egg. Those are not darkness friendly. I managed to find a candle, started mymeal, and called my aunt, who lives just around the corner. She had been in her pantry when thelights went out, and couldn’t find her way out. She later said that she had somehow made a mental 90° turnwithout actually making that turn. Hence the confusion. Our handyman John had come to rescue her,and then cycled off to check out the source of the problem. Some car had run into a power pole andcut the electricity to a huge swath of Seattle. John helped Aunt Dakki get bundled off to Aunt Pauline’s, butI opted to stay home and read by candlelight. As, on the way home, I had been planning my dinner (which was a success, I might add – verytasty), I had also been planning my evening of knitting till the wee hours. Alas, none of that in the dark! I read my book by candlelight for anhour or so, and then went to sleep – way too early. A waste of a good evening. But at midnight, the light blinked on, so I reset my clock,read a bit, and went back to sleep. All in all, it was a rather pleasant evening. It would have been a very sad evening if the lights had goneout about ten minutes earlier, before my egg was nicely cooked.

Some neighborhood ladies

Since I didn't take pictures of my dinner, I'm giving you some images from my neighborhood, reminiscent of the ingredients of my oeuf florentine.

An Instructive Day

2011-10-11T21:04:00.000-07:00

There area few items which are requisites of civilized living – or at any rate, ofcivilized cooking and dining. Iused to speculate as to what, if burgled, I would have to immediately replace. In my kitchen, it was my Cuisinart food processor. At that time, I didn’thave a Kitchenaid mixer, so that magnificent tool was not in the running. Now, I think I use it lots more. In short, I couldn’t do without it.But, then there are other, more humble things to consider ……

Ana wascoming for dinner and a movie, and for once, I actually had the meal preparedon time. Just about the time shewas due to arrive, I had everything ready - even Margaret and Tobias were fedand Margaret had gone potty – and I was about to open a bottle of wine. I turned, and somehow my sleeve gotcaught on the corkscrew. It fellonto the floor and into its three pieces, and went scuttling across theroom. I found two of the parts,but could not find the third, and the most important, part. Margaret offered to help, but the twoof us were flummoxed. It was nowhere. I got out a flashlight andlooked under the stove and the refrigerator. Nothing! Ilooked in my “things drawer,” for a spare, but apparently, I only had theone. How can one possibly havedinner if one does not have a corkscrew? Ana arrived, and was horrified at our dilemma. We could not have wine with our meal without acorkscrew! We had a moment ofsilence, and both prayed to St. Anthony to help us find the corkscrew. Being a Catholic, and an ItalianCatholic at that, he would certainly understand the absolute necessity of thislittle bit of plastic and metal. Sure enough, as soon as we had prayed, I looked under the refrigeratoragain, and there, among the dust mice, was the rogue corkscrew. We thanked St. A, and sat down to avery nice meal of barley soup (the first of the season,) and a pear salad –also the first of the season.

My littlecorkscrew is a bit of a miracle. It works every time, and pulls that cork straight out. I first read about it years ago in somecooking magazine (probably Gourmet,) and as I always had cork pulling troubles, I rushed out and gotone. Given its plasticness and unimpressive looks, it was sort of expensive, but it was altogether worth it. As my father was a lover of both wineand gadgets, I got him one for a Christmas present that year. I could tell that, when he opened hisgift, he was shocked that I had gotten him such a humble present. But when he opened the bottle of winefor dinner, his face lit up. “Thisis really nice,” he said. “I cansee why you knew I would like it.” Vindicated by technology! This was probably thirty years ago, when hot technology consisted ofsuch things. Incidentally, I gotPauline one too, and we both are still using the same ones all these yearslater. I am now thinking thatmaybe I had better invest in a backup, just to avert some future dinnertimedisaster.

Very Basic Pear Salad

For the vinaigrette:

1 tablespoon rice vinegar,

1 teaspoon Dijon mustard,

3 tablespoons olive oil,

salt and pepper

For the salad,

2 ripe pears, peeled and sliced,

a nice bed of rocket,

a sprinkling of walnuts, and

a sprinkling of broken feta.

Very Qwik-N-EZ!

Thoroughly mix the vinaigrette ingredients. Artistically lay the pear slices on thebed of rocket, pour the vinaigrette over them, and sprinkle on the walnuts andfeta. So simple! So yummy!

Clean sheet day

2011-10-08T16:53:00.000-07:00

Rebeccaand I both agree that one of the most delightful moments of the day is thatlonged for one in which we finally slips between the sheets with our arduous diurnal travailsbehind us. A bit of reading, a bitof knitting, and then peaceful oblivion, snuggled next to the kitty andpup. And the most delightfulmoment of the week is when one slips between freshly laundered linens – as yetunsullied by man (in this case, woman,) or beast. The anticipated ecstasy of this moment was something Rachaelcould not (or would not) grasp. She could not understand why I would be so irked when I changed all mybed linen, went out – usually to choir practice, as Thursday is my bed changingday and also choir practice evening – and then came home expecting thiswonderful “clean sheet moment,” only to find her hot sweaty little self in atangle of my sheets and blankets, my bed now a rumpled mess and absolutely not the crisp,lovely arrangement I had left. Atfirst, she argued against the delight of clean sheets – why was I so finicky,what was the big deal, and why should I feel that it was a treat just for me. Well, I countered, it was after all, mybed. She had her own bed and Inever mussed it up. Then when she felt that these arguments were no longer viable, she feigned ignorance, claiming that shecould not possibly know when my sheets were clean, (and, once again, what wasthe big deal anyway?) So I made alittle laminated sign that I put out on the bed every clean sheet day. She often missed this --- once hercontacts were out, she couldn’t see… etc, etc, etc. Aaaargh! Her bed was very nice, and in the summer, much cooler than mine, butmine seemed to have irresistible charms.

Once,years ago, after a really, really horrible evening at work, I came home atmidnight, desperate for the solace of my bed. I flipped back the covers, only to find that Leslie, mydarling cairn terrier had crawled under the covers and thrown up potatoes onthe sheets. I got hysterical,really hysterical. Rebecca, noblegirl that she is, got up, came in and totally changed the linen on my bed whileI sobbed in the corner. FindingRachael in my bed was no where near this. In fact, I was often happy to find her there, just not on clean sheetnight.

Now thatshe has moved into her own apartment, I miss her often and wish she were herwith her interesting prattle and good company. But on clean sheet night, I always give a little sigh ofrelief that Rachael will not be in my bed when I get home, and Margaret is tooold to get up on it and mess it up until I assist her. There will be virginal sheets, clean and untainted by anyoccupation but mine. Aaaaaaaah!

A Serendipitous Day

2011-10-06T21:34:00.000-07:00

It seems as though at the onset of every autumn, and againevery spring, I am blasted into submission by a dreadful cold. This year is, sadly, no exception. I am hideous to behold – pink, damp,and dripping. In short, a soggylump. I had a date with John, myhandyman helper, to vacuum out the furnace ducts so that when I finally turnedon the heating, my house would not be suffused in a cloud of dust, spiced withthe occasional mouse poop. WhenJohn showed up yesterday, vacuum in hand, he took one look at me and said, “Nota good day, huh?” “Let’s trytomorrow,” I pleaded. Tomorrowcame, only when it did, it was, of course, today, and I didn’t feel muchbetter. What the heck, Ithought. It won’t take thatlong. In the immortal words of TomStratman, “Yeah, right!” In order todo one of the vents, we had to move the China cabinet, and in order to do that,I had to take everything out of it. And it is full to the brim with my fragile glassware, servingplates and bowls. I opened it up, removed a stack of dishes, came back to get more,and my heart nearly stopped. Ahuge grey thing leapt out with a jingle jangle of clattering crockery and afrightened “Meow.” Why do cats solove to get into these places? Andthen why do they not stay long enough to let you take their picture? Once we moved the China cabinet, wewere confronted with a very furry wall, (not a cat this time,) and I was ratherembarrassed.

In order to do another vent, we had to move a shelf that holdsmy pots and pans. In order to dothat, I had to move all my house plants and a huge bunch of heavy cast ironcookware. Yuck! But when we movedthe shelf in the kitchen, quelle horreur! The wall behind it had on a thickdust bunny coat, and the floor –well, I don’t even want to describe it. Horrible! This time,I did not even think of taking a picture. Then…. once everything was cleanedup, I had to put it all back. Allthis on a day which I had planned to spend sulking in bed!

There were major plusses to the day, though. It makes me happy when I have cleanedthe house, and this was at least part of the house cleaned. And then, I found several littleforgotten treasures. One was acard I had gotten for Becca when she was a wee one. She had to have several teeth extracted, and afterward wassick – very sick. While Dennisstayed with her, I cycled off the store to get her prescription, and a littlesick-day present. At the giftstore, I found this card. Theastonishing thing was that the wall paper was the same, the quilt was the same,and the table was the same – just like the bed my little mousie girl wasrecovering in. It wasamazing - just like at tiny portrait of actual her. So finding this was ahappy moment, a memory of my darling girl when she was tiny (sort of tiny,anyway,) and thought that everything I did was wonderful. She knows better now.

So, on furnace duct cleaning day, pleasant things come tolight and make the horrible day a little bit worthwhile.

Another fun day

2011-10-01T11:39:00.000-07:00

On Thursdays, Rebecca and I often have a fun outing before wego to Feed the Hungry at the Cathedral Kitchen in the late afternoon. This week, I had a ton of stuff to doin the morning, and she had something to do in the far northern reaches of town,so we decided to meet for lunch at the Tamarind Tree after our tasks were done.We both were in the mood for some wonderful Vietnamese delicacies.

The day was perfectly lovely, so we opted to eat on the patio. Our food arrived, and it was beautiful, as well ashyper-delicious looking. My tummysmiled! “This is the bestrestaurant in the world,” I contentedly said. “Don’t you think?” “Well," she answered doubtfully, “I guess it depends on your criteria.” I said that my criteria were,“wonderful food, a pleasant ambience, friendly staff, inexpensive, andaccessible.” By accessible, Imeant that we could walk there, and if no time to walk, then there is parking.She still looked a little skeptical. “Well, what do you think is the best restaurant in the world?” I countered. “The Canterbury,” she said. Seeing my stunned look, she said, “Ireally like to go there.” I agreedthat it was a fun place to go. “Ofcourse,” she said, “ the food isn’t that good.”

So much for what I thought would probably be the sine qua non of theworld’s best restaurant.

An uncomfortable day for Tobias

2011-09-26T20:52:00.000-07:00

Rachael and Bunny on adoption day

I had a little houseguest recently, and like too manyhouseguests, she wasn’t very well behaved. She was sweet and charming to me, picked up after herself,and was polite about her food, thus avoiding some of the main houseguestcrimes. However, she was very rudeto my furry children. Bunny is arelatively new family member, having been adopted by Rachael several monthsago. In her own home, she is delightfullywell mannered. She visited Rebeccaand Maria for a day, while Rachael’s apartment building was being fumigated,and seemingly, Maria was a very poor hostess, hissing and spitting at innocentBunny, until she (Maria) had to stay in the bathroom for the day. Then Maria, in her fury, shrunk herselfup just like rats do, and slithered out a window that was only opened a crack,onto the roof, causing terrible consternation. When I heard about it all, I was glad that I hadn’t beenthere. I would have been very upset about Maria being on the roof. And I thought, “Poor Bunny! Maria was certainly rude to her guest!” Now I am not so sure. I am beginning to suspect that Bunny might have silently hissedupsetting things under her breath to Maria as she emerged from her catcarrier. Things like, “I am themost beautiful cat here, and everyone’s new darling. You, Maria, are trèspassé!” Maria, never thefriendliest cat when it comes to other animals, doesn’t take this sort oftreatment well.

When Bunny arrivedhere for a visit while her mom was out of town for a few days, she was a littlemore forthright. She openly hissedand growled at both Margaret and Tobias. Margaret is so self confident, that she was totally unfazed, and Bunnygave up on her pretty quickly. Poor Tobias, always a gentleman, was polite to Bunny, and never spitback, but he was not happy about his houseguest. He did his best to simply ignore her, and succeeded prettywell. Bunny was determined however, and followed him around, hissing all thewhile, even sleeping about a yard away from him, hissing all night long. I kept waking up, hearing Margaretsnoring next to me, and a low growl from the other side of the room where Bunnyspent the night, keeping an eye on Tobias, never letting him forget that shewas there and on the qui vive.

Bunny hissing!

I'm sure Bunny was just acting out because she missed her mum. She is usually a delightful kitty. And, in fact, she was a delightful kitty during her visit, excepting for her distaste for my darling Tobias.

Yet another great day!

2011-09-23T11:18:00.000-07:00

Fellow bloggers, Maria, Corinna, and Brian

Fun, fun, fun! That is the Hunthausen Golf Tournament.I look forward to it anxiously all summer. My friend Maria, who is in charge of it all, looks forward to it anxiously all summer aswell, but I think her anxiety is of a different sort. She lets me volunteer, and I feign working hard, butactually, I am just having a great time. The idyllic surroundings – lots of trees, a fabulous fountain spurtingup from a lovely lakelet, darling duckies, all go to make a delightfulafternoon. I was a failed photographer this year, so I only have a few foryou. I was desperate to get apicture of the ducks who kept wandering right into the clubhouse during thepre-dinner party, perhaps looking for a glass of wine or - more likely, as they were ducks, a cocktail, but other party goers kept officiously shooing them out.

Stacey and Archbishop Brunett

In addition to having a funtime, I brought home lots of swag. There was a silent auction, and I won a nice little bag made by myfriend Peggy. There was a popular“wine roulette booth,” at which one paid the price and selected a cutelywrapped bottle of wine. This wouldprove, in most cases, to be wine very ordinaire, or maybe a bottle of wine somewhat better than ordinaire, but there was a possibility of getting some spectacular vintage, which would, no doubt, be wasted on me. I am certainly not among the winecognoscenti, and am happy if it just tastes nice.

There was also a mystery gift table, and again one paid theprice, with the potential of getting something fabulous – in this case, a hugeNordstrom gift card – but this is what I got. Not something I would have selected, but he will be a goodcompanion for my Garten Zwerge.

My cute new purse is in the background.

The dinner was great too!

Happy Birthday!

2011-09-22T11:12:00.000-07:00

Gosh! I have had three blog-worthy eventsthis week, and as a consequence, have not had time to tell you about any ofthem! The most signal of the threewas the birthday of the world’s best daughter! I won’t say how old she is, because that would cast light onwhat an antique I am. She selectedour activities for the day, and they were all the very things I would have selected myself. The thought occurs – was she just beinga loving daughter, or is this what she really wanted to do??????? We walked to the UniversityDistrict for lunch at a vegan raw food restaurant. This did not sound terribly appealing to me, but one can't complain on the birthday of one's little darling. When Rachael, my other little darling was a very youngthing, she read a James Bond novel, in which James was ordered to go to penalhealth spa so that the ravages of his bon vivant lifestyle with its copiousmartinis - “shaken, not stirred,” could be somewhat mitigated. The first order was a raw foodvegetable diet, to purge his body of the poisons he normally so happilyimbibed. Rachael was allenthusiasm, prattling on about our bodily poisons, and how we all needed toswitch to raw foods. I recall thatthe poisons in John Wayne’s body also came into the argument somehow. Rebecca was game, so our family startedout on a purgatorial (in several senses of the word) raw food diet. It was grotesque. Now, there are days when I probablyactually do eat only raw foods, and I am happy and replete. But Rebecca had gotten a cook bookwhich offered recipes for ground up raw things which tried to mimic cookedthings. Like Bread! And failedhorribly. Blech!!! I dreadeddinner. Our regimen lasted lessthan a week, and everyone was happy to abandon the experiment - bodily poisonsnot withstanding.

So, when Becca proposed a rawfood restaurant, I had qualms. Butneedlessly, as our lunch was fine. Since my lunch had been so healthy and filling, I had some probablypoisonous biscotti (doubly cooked) and a dish of ice cream (raw, actually) fordinner.

We stopped at the Dahlia Garden on the way.

A Pleasant Evening

2011-09-19T13:14:00.000-07:00

Another celebratory meal out –this time with the Aunties, to celebrate Pauline’s birthday. She gets a two-fer from Ivar’s eachyear as her birthday approaches, and this year she took us out. (I thought it was supposed to be theother way around, but I’m not complaining.)

University and Montlake bridges

The weather had been hot, hot,hot for the previous week, and then made a sudden Seattle about turn and becamerainy and chilly. Everyone elsewas whining about the shift, but I was delighted. I am not a hot weather fan. The restaurant seemed not to have noticed the change,however, and the air conditioner must have been going full blast. I am never one to complain about thecold, but I was wishing I had worn another layer. You can see that the Aunties came fully prepared. Their coats did not come off even onceduring the meal.

Crews on Lake Union

Our waiter wasadorable, and Dakki kept saying that he looked like President Obama. He was handsome, but shorter, rounder,and altogether cuddlier looking. We liked him a lot. AfterDakki expatiated at length on the similarity between the two, I took a look around toassess the other waiters. Theymostly looked like characters who would be hired by Sidney Greenstreet in some1940’s film noir. One was thespitting image of Joe Canino, the main gangster bad guy in The Big Sleep. I pointed this out to them, and theywere initially skeptical (as they are of most of my observations,) but after afew looks about, they had to agree. Somehow, this cheered us even more, and our dinner was now not onlydelicious, but had the added flavor of being just a little illicit!

Another fun, but slightly sinful day

2011-09-12T22:46:00.000-07:00

I have had my same job for abig bunch of years. When I firststarted working eight hour evening shift, there were about 15 of us. Nurseshave come and gone over the years, and now, there are only three of us left!And I don’t mean just three of the originals, but three altogether. We eight hour holdouts are a fastdisappearing breed. These days,twelve hour shifts are chic, but pretty grueling for those who do them – andthat would be almost everyone. Theydon’t seem to be offering eight hour shifts any more, so if you are a patient,you are almost guaranteed of having an exhausted person with sore feet takingcare of you for at least part of the time. Not ideal!

We three old-timers met todayfor a jolly lunch outing at the fun and funky Luna Park Café. I had probably the most unhealthy mealI have had in years, and it was delightful. Hashed browns, cooked to perfection, and a “just the rightdegree of runniness” fried egg. And to add to the total depravity of the meal, a gigantic strawberrymilkshake for dessert. Laura optedwhat she aptly called for the “typical sixteen year old’s lunch,” a milkshakeand French fries. Virginiawas more sensible and restrainedwith the fried egg and hashed browns, omitting the mortally sinfulmilkshake.

Thanks to Laura for photo

You can see that I am excited about the milkshake!

Actually, we are allfairly healthy eaters. What gotinto us? It must have been the thrill of getting together on a non-work day. But afterward, we walkedsome of our naughtiness off with a stroll along the beach at Alki.

All in all, a very pleasantafternoon.

A Day of Remberance

2011-09-11T15:40:00.000-07:00

Icon of the Crucifixion of the Lord. Joan Brand-Landkamer, Cathedral Iconographer

Ten years ago today, athousand people spontaneously gathered in St. James Cathedral to share theirshock and grief at the day’s terrible events, and to seek comfort in thecommunal outpouring of prayer. Today we gathered again to remember that day. The shock was lessened, but the grief was still raw andintense. In the opening hymn, weasked “That, redeemed from war and hatred, all may come and go in peace.” However, running though the scripturalreadings and Father Ryan’s homily were reminders of the need for, and prayers for, forgiveness. In the Gospel, Jesus tells Peter that he must not forgive only seven times, butseventy times seven times. I amthinking that this goes for us too, and not just Peter.

The music, The St James Mass for Peace, was even more perfectthan I could have imagined – from the still small whisper to the clanging thunder of our voices raised in prayers. But most moving of all, was the silence– the silence as the Mass ended and faithful exited the Cathedral, each holdinga lighted candle, and uttering not a word.

Thanks to Maria Laughlin for photos

An Almost Autumn Day

2011-09-10T20:34:00.000-07:00

Signs of Autumn (my favorite season,) are notonly in the air, but also floating through the air and drifting to the ground.

Since I no longer have a “first day of school”every September, the big autumnal event is the reconvening of our choir afterour summer vacation. It’swonderful to see everyone again, but most wonderful of all is the music!

Sometimes when one practices the pieces allalone at home, they can be pretty blech! Odd intervals, difficult rhythms – and often the one alto part just doesn’tmake musical sense or sound very beautiful. Then when we all practice together, the real music unfolds. Our motet for Sunday lookedchallenging on the page, and I was suitably intimidated. However, when we all sang it onThursday evening with the piano as accompaniment, it seemed very nice, and niceeven when I reviewed it by myself. But at the rehearsal this morning, with the real accompaniment (or mostof it,) it was a astonishing! The music ranges from the gentlest whisper to thethunderous outpouring of our prayer for peace. The Saint James Mass for Peace,sung to commemorate the tragic events of ten years ago, will be very fitting,and a very moving tribute to thoselost on that day.

A watery day

2011-09-09T18:55:00.000-07:00

Another day in the dumps, only to be lifted out of the doldrums by lunch and a fun outing with Samos. He fancied Indian food, and the restaurant we used to like has gotten yucky. Where to go that wasn’t too far afield? He knew just the place. (Sadly, I don’t remember the name of it, or I would recommend it to you.) Our lunch was especially yummy, and it cheered me considerably. We were in the vicinity of the Center for Wooden Boats, so we decided to take an amble around and look at all the waterside scenes and all the wonderful boats – everything from rowboats and canoes to tug boats, (everyone’s favorite, I think) and to some pretty big ones. Yachts, maybe. I am not sure where ordinary boats end and yachts begin, I’m afraid.

Dog amenities

An Insomniac's Night

2011-09-07T11:17:00.000-07:00

Wilkie Collins is one of my favorite authors. Or at least, he wrote two of my favorite books – The Woman in White and The Moonstone. These two are really at the pinnacle of the nineteenth century sensational novel. They both could keep a very sleepy person awake all night. The first time I read The Moonstone, many years ago when I was a married woman, I could not put it down, and had to read a few more pages, and then a few more pages, and then a few more pages until the very wee hours of the morning. The next day, Dennis complained that I had stayed up too late reading. “But my book was so good,” I said. “You read it and you’ll see.” So that evening, he started it just as I was drifting off to the land of Nod. The next night, he was reading something else. “Didn’t you like The Moonstone”? I asked, disappointed. He looked a little embarrassed. “I finished it,” he admitted. "Just as you were waking up." See? It is a real page-turner. On the other hand, Wilkie Collins has written some of the most boring books ever. The Dead Secret is a perfect example. I can’t believe it is still in print. It’s that silly. One knows what the secret is on about page four - or maybe even page two. I carried on because I could not believe that the plot could be so obvious, and hoped that some surprise twist might be coming. As anyone who keeps track (on the sidebar) of what I am reading will know, it took me weeks to finish this one. Then one night I simply could not go to sleep, and this book seemed like the perfect soporific tool to induce a snooze. But no – I read on to the bitter end, and there were no surprises. I turned off the light, hoping for a boredom induced torpor – but none came. I staggered downstairs, eyes very bleary, and looked about for something else to read. It had to be good, but not too good, since I did want to go to sleep before it was time to wake up. My friends, The Twins, had been amazed that I had never read a Horatio Alger book, but I thought they sounded potentially dull. I knew all about the “Rags to Riches if Only One is Sufficiently Morally Upright and Industrious” themes, and that storyline did not have a lot of appeal. Plus, I had never really had access to one of Alger’s books. Or so I thought. As I was searching my bookshelves, in my sleep deprived fog, through the haze, I espied an Alger book which I hadn’t even realized that I had. The perfect thing! It was fun to read, and actually did eventually have the desired soporific effect.

I might add that no golf club appeared in this novel, either onstage or off.

A Fun Baking Day

2011-09-02T12:38:00.000-07:00

Tom and Hairy! What a couple of adorable kitties! They, along with their mummies, invited me to dinner, and so I baked them a cake to welcome them.

The Porter Cake was from my never-fail BBC cake book. Like every other cake I have made from this book, it was très yummy, and très time consuming to make. I can’t believe the time estimates they give for preparing these cakes. This one said twenty minutes to prep time, and it took me an hour and a half. Rebecca says that it is because I am so inefficient. Maybe so, but I can’t imagine anyone doing it in 20 minutes. She says I waste time fiddling around, and my pantry is so poorly arranged that I can’t find anything. I informed her that this is not the problem, as I recently, in my post-mouse cleanup frenzy, rearranged it. I know right where everything is. Sometimes. Perhaps if I had a servant to prepare the cake pan (lined with parchment paper and buttered,) assemble and measure all the ingredients, chop the fruit, and then clean up afterwards, so that all I had to do was toss it into a bowl and stir …….. Well then, maybe. I think it took me the full twenty minutes to find the right cake pan. Take a look at the ingredients spread out on the table.

This is not even all of them, because I usually put things away as I go. You will notice that there are no eggs, no flour, no butter – the cake essentials. And then have a look at the ensuant mess! But it doesn’t matter – as long as one doesn’t really expect the prep time estimation to be remotely accurate - because a twenty minute cake would not be much fun. I had a lovely morning among my dried fruits and spices, chopping, measuring, mixing, sipping the other half of the Guinness – which I used instead of Porter - and looking forward to meeting Tomasina and Hairy.

A Surgical Day

2011-09-01T00:46:00.000-07:00

Occasionally, I look at Joannamauselina’s stats, and, more interesting than the numbers, at the things folks have googled to arrive there. One common search thread is “hand surgery stitches.” So, I anticipate that the quest for surgery pictures will bring a few visitors to this page as well. The auntly surgeries and mishaps seem to be of world wide interest, while all along I had been thinking that interest would be limited to my more immediate family. This is Pauline’s second hand surgery, (click here to see the first) and it looks pretty impressive, don’t you think? Aunt Dakki’s eye surgery was photogenic as well.

Every so often, Pauline and I have lunch – tomato soup, crackers, and cheese (Yum!) and I give her a mini pedicure. Yesterday, I brought along some Mochi ice cream for dessert. Now, I was forgetting that Pauline is the type of girl who eats pizza and French fries with a fork, so naturally, she would eat her mochi ice cream with a spoon. And I forgot that she would be trying to do this with only one hand. This proved difficult, but she was up to it.

Success!

A Pleasant Evening

2011-08-28T21:11:00.000-07:00

A rare treat - my friend Eileen came for dinner and a card game (klabberjass). More often, we meet for lunch, so this was nicer, from my perspective anyway, because it lasted longer. Plus, we can’t play cards in a restaurant – at least not the one we usually frequent.

I served one of my favorite hot day dinners – gazpacho. Every time I make it I think of Woman on the Edge of a Nervous Breakdown, a very funny movie, in which gazpacho plays a major role.

Gazpacho – an excellent hot day dinner

Croutons

1 smallish loaf of crusty bread

2 cloves garlic, sliced

olive oil

Soup

2 large tomatoes, peeled

1 large cucumber, peeled and chopped

1 green and 1 red pepper, chopped

1 purple onion

one big clove of garlic

26 oz can of plum tomatoes

¼ cup olive oil

1/3 cup red wine vinegar

1/8 tsp Tabasco sauce (oddly, I didn’t have any, and so used Vietnamese hot sauce)

salt, pepper

bunch of chopped chives

First, make the croutons by cutting the bread into one inch cubes. Heat the oil in a skillet and sauté the garlic. When the garlic is translucent and just beginning to brown, remove it and set it aside. Sauté the bread chunks until browned in all sides, adding more oil as necessary. Set them aside, with the garlic mixed in.

As you chop the vegetables, put half the tomatoes, half the cucumber, half the peppers, and half the onion in separate bowls. Put the other half in the blender, along with the clove of garlic. Add the can of tomatoes and puree the whole thing. Transfer to a large bowl, and then add the vinegar, ¼ cup olive oil, Tabasco, salt and pepper. You won’t need much salt, as the canned tomatoes are already salty. Garnish with the chopped chives.

When you are ready to eat, set out out the chopped vegetables, (each in their separate dishes) and the croutons, to be dished up as accompaniments. Very easy, and very yummy.

A Lump-like Day

2011-08-27T09:54:00.000-07:00

Samos and I were both bummed. I sat around my house all afternoon, feeling guilty that I simply could not summon up the energy to do any of the things I so much needed to do. I just sat there like a sulking big lump of damp cotton ball. He sat around his house all afternoon and felt the same. We decided to try to cheer ourselves up by taking an energizing evening stroll through the Arboretum's swamp walk. It was so energizing, that while we didn’t actually get lost, we traversed bits that we had never been through before. I say we didn’t get lost, because that is what Samos kept telling me, but I was the teeniest bit anxious about it. We even saw naked people strutting about a secluded beachlet. I’ve never seen that in the Arboretum before. (Sadly, no photos – besides, this is a G-rated blog.) We both felt significantly cheered up afterward.

Historic Carroll's Clock at MOHAI

Samos thought this dog was enjoying himself. I thought he looked a little apprehensive. What do you think?

A Day at the Opera

2011-08-26T07:24:00.000-07:00

“You didn’t write a review of Porgy and Bess,” Rebecca said. “It got to be too late,” I answered. “Besides, what I write isn’t a review. It’s two sentences about what I thought.” What did I think? I went out to lunch with my friend Suzanne today, and she asked if I had gone to Porgy and Bess. “What did you think?” she wanted to know. “Oh my God! It was electric!” “That’s just what I thought,” she said. “It was so alive!” I babbled on. “I have never seen an opera that seemed so vibrant and so immediate. I was astonished.” “That’s just what I thought,” she said. She told me that when she saw the opera line-up for this year, and she saw Porgy and Bess on it, she thought, “Ho hum. The songs are nice, but will it add up to an opera? But then, whammo! The best opera in years. The music was amazing” “That’s just what I thought,” I said. Two women thinking the same thing. The songs in Porgy and Bess seem such a part of us, as Americans, a part of who we are, that we take them for granted. I think of them as entities in themselves, and not part of a larger organism. I certainly wasn’t expecting to be totally blown away by seeing them in their proper context. Everything about this opera was perfect - the singing, the acting, the scenery, and most of all the stupendous music. I wanted it to go on forever. "That's just what I thought," we both said.

A Serviceable Day

2011-08-24T11:53:00.000-07:00

Carmen, Miller, and Margaret

Sunday was an energy-free day for me. I just couldn’t get moving. I managed to go to church, and was certainly glad I had roused myself sufficiently, as the service was wonderful, and the Schola Cantorum (the children’s choir) was even more amazing than usual. In fact, was celestial in the extreme. The folks in the pew next to me apparently felt the same. After the choir’s last song, a piece composed specifically for the Schola Cantorum, my neighbor’s mouth was agape. “Wow!” he gasped. It really was pretty “Wow!” I wish all of you could have been there.

Elijah and his Dad

Then I attended another little service in my aunt’s back yard. It was to commemorate the life of Carmen, a Newfoundland, the furry companion of my friend John, and a great favorite of my aunt. Several neighbors, including Glen and his parents, came to bid farewell to Carmen. Glen has been barking a “Hello” to Margaret, Becca, and me for years, but now he is slowing down and makes do with a smile and a tail wag. Jude and Elijah were there with their father, too. Here Jude gives Glen a loving pat.

A sweaty day

2011-08-20T11:48:00.000-07:00

I just noticed that it has been a week since I felt that I had anything blogworthy to say. Hmmmmm! I still don’t have anything blogworthy to say. I have had a pretty humdrum few days lately, mostly because I have had to work a whole extra day this week. While I love my job, I feel that I spend sufficient time doing it, and any extra is a terrible burden. Terrible. On one of my days off, I cleaned, grocery shopped, and did laundry. All day long Dull, dull, dull, I know, but somehow, after such a day, I am gratified and happy that things look tidy. Gratifying, but not interesting. You don’t want to hear about it, I am sure. On the other day off, Rebecca and I went on an urban hike to the University District. This is a pretty long walk, but not too long. Just right, in fact, and then, as to reward ourselves for our efforts, there are quite a few restaurants to choose from when one reaches the destination. Usually, Rebecca is ready to start long before I am, and this time was no exception. Plus, we have a deadline of sorts, since Thursday is our Family Kitchen dishwashing day, and we don’t want to be late for that. So, as too often happens, I overslept, and then stumbled out of bed in a stupor. I was so late that I had only 1.5 cups of tea. Big mistake. This is really, really, not enough. About the time we approached the Volunteer Park wading pool, and I had regaled Becca (for about the thousandth time) with my memories of coming here with my Grandmother when I was wading pool age, and how we had many nice days here with baby Rachael, I switched into heavy whine mode. It was too hot. I felt faint from lack of tea. And dehydrated. I should have gone to the potty before we left. It was way, way too hot. If only I could find a sprinkler and moisten my fevered brow. Etc. Becca was stoical about my whining, and feigned suitable sympathy.

As I trudged and Becca sprang along, we noted the first signs of the approaching autumn. Falling leaves, profusions of dahlias, and lovely apples. Are apples the national fruit of Washington? I think maybe.

As we crossed the University of Washington campus, we found a lawn sprinkler and I wetted myself down. This improved my mood considerably. Then at the restaurant, one of my favorites, I gulped down my huge glass of water and half of Becca’s. She was shocked when she went to take a sip and her glass was nearly empty. I felt much cheerier, and didn’t whine at all on the way home (by bus, I might add. It is all uphill all the way.)

A playful day

2011-08-12T20:11:00.000-07:00

Geoffrey Tobias now goes by Tobias. He said he didn’t quite feel up to being called Geoffrey. He is a most remarkable kitty, unique in so many ways. Every cat I have ever had, when served his or her meal, has been like a starving sled dog, bolting his food, terrified that some other member of the team might beat him or her to a single bite. There was yowling every morning as I staggered into the kitchen first thing, and twining and leg rubbing in the evening. No chance of me forgetting to feed those felines. The kitty buffet disappeared in seconds. Tobias, on the other hand, is very casual about his food. He can take it or leave it. In fact, he always waits to be seated by the staff (me) before taking his place. He has his own special dining area, which is well out of Margaret’s reach. Margaret having no similar food issues, would be happy to quickly finish off anything that he hesitates to gobble up. He has let me know that his food needs special preparation, part wet, part dry, topped off by a few tablespoons of warm water, and then mixed well. He watches to see that I fix it properly, but when I set it at his place, he just stares at it until I lift him up and show it to him. He eats about half, ambles off, comes back to and finishes off the rest within the next hour or so.

With the usual cat, during meal preparation for humans, all food must be hidden away or covered if the cook is not in the room. Once I was making frosting roses for Rachael’ s birthday cake and had about thirty of them prepared and laid out on a tray. I left the room for a minute, and when I came back, Farnaby had taken a taste of every one. Just like Ramona. Once my then roommate was making herself a turkey sandwich for her work lunch, and left it unmonitored on the counter while she slipped out of the room briefly. Farnaby took the turkey out of the sandwich, kept it, dropped the bread down to Leslie, the cairn terrier eagerly waiting on the floor below, then ate the turkey himself. Tobias would never do that. I leave my cooking unattended all the time, and he has never touched it.

Maria helping with dinner preparation

All my other kitties have loved their toys. Maria’s toys have to be hidden from her, or she will play them to death in short order, just as she would a real live mousie. She quivers with excitement when she sees her pink feather bird-on-a-fishing-pole coming out of the cupboard. She stalks it, leaps at it, worries it, and won’t let it be for a second. Tobias, in contrast, can, with a lot of work on the part of his mistress or her guests, be finally roused to show some interest in his red feather snake, but the interest quickly fades. His Uncle Farney loved his busy balls, but to Tobias, they are a big ho-hum. I even got him one with a feather attached. Not interested.

Imagine my surprise when I was sitting reading at my kitchen table, and out of the corner of my eye I saw him scurrying and leaping about like a little kitten! What could be happening! I had a huge spider, a left over Halloween decoration, sitting on my radio next to his little breakfast nook (see it in the picture above.) He had removed it, and was frolicking about the kitchen floor, batting it, chasing it, and having a wonderful time. He chased it into the next room and back into the kitchen. The next morning, his spider was gone. I searched in all the corners and under the furniture, but no spider. A day later, when I was in the bathroom, I noticed him looking longingly under the vanity cabinet. There is a small opening in the base of the cabinet, and all that is under there is a family of huge dust bunnies. Could it be that his spider was visiting the bunnies? I got a flashlight, struggled down onto my tummy, looked, and there, lurking in the back corner was the spider. With some effort, I got it out, returned it to him in the kitchen. What a happy kitty. What a funny favorite toy.

A shopping day

2011-08-08T13:51:00.000-07:00

As noted previously, the drive to West Seattle is treacherous no matter which route one takes. My friend Laura, who actually lives there, has also recently documented this. Rebecca loves going to West Seattle, and I agree that it is a pleasant place, with its cozy downtown, comfy looking homes, and lovely beaches. But I have a horror of driving there – due to the “fear of the bridge” factor. So, at her suggestion, we rode the bus for our long overdue outing to visit Littleknits, for me to purchase a gift for a friend, and for Rebecca’s to buff up her yarn stash. I was not going to add anything to mine. Definitely not! It was a pleasant walk downtown to catch the bus and then an almost stress free ride to our destination. I had not realized that we would need to go via the Alaskan Way Viaduct, and naturally, as our bus approached the viaduct on-ramp, I had visions of earthquakes with crumbling columns flinging our bus through the air and then to the ground far below, dashing it and us to pieces. I am happy to report that the earth did not quake as we made our way over the viaduct or the bridge, and I forgot to worry about it on the return trip. The viaduct was actually so disconcerting that I also forgot to worry about the bridge altogether. Actually my concerns about the bridge are not about it collapsing, but rather about finding the correct exit ramp. Seattle exits are all too frequently not marked until it is too late to change into the necessary lane, and since the exits could be either on the right or the left – with no logic to their placement - unless you actually know well in advance where the exit will be, driving can be traumatic. I finally realized that I didn’t need to worry about this at all, as the bus driver was assuredly familiar with the exit system, but I am just programmed to worry about any trip to West Seattle.

We arrived in one piece – two pieces really, as there were two of us, and were greeted by Louis, one of the world’s sweetest dogs. I have a horror of having too many knitting projects going – more than one for which concentration is needed to knit at home in private, and another requiring no brain at all for knitting in public – that is my preferred limit. Any more, and I feel the ever present Catholic guilt, although why, I couldn’t say, as the idea of knitting being a guilt producer is pretty ridiculous. Some of us are more guilt ridden than others. That much is obvious. I had only entered into temptation’s way because I was purchasing a gift. I had no intention of buying unneeded yarn for myself. Indeed I had not. However, the primary temptation was bright silky yellow shot with deep red. What a lovely shawlette it would make. The little angel and devil on the opposing shoulders were there, but the angel was fairly quiescent. The devil, on the other hand, in the form of the yellow silkiness and Rebecca herself whispering how happy I would be if I had it, she had just the perfect pattern to lend me, etc., were right there tempting me on. Naturally, I succumbed. Now I have to force myself even harder to finish my (very long term) current project, a sweater which will be wonderful when finished, but which has become, dare I say it? Supremely tedious. I might just have to knit a few stitches to try it out.

A Night Out

2011-08-06T21:20:00.000-07:00

Well, I have been a lax blogger lately. I think working at my actual job has taken it out of me. I usually need a day to recover and it seems like I have been working nearly every other day – or QOD, as we say in the medical world. Thus, I work a day, stagger through the next day to recover, work a day, recover, and then have to do the whole thing over again. Just working and recovering. But earlier in the week, on the National Night Out, I went to the block party of one of my favorite patients ever. She is a near neighbor and we have several friends in common, but I hadn’t known her until she was my patient a month or two ago, and we just hit it off – or “just clicked,” as she told her friend.

She invited me to her Night Out block party and I was happy to go. I had planned to stop in at my more local Night Out party on my way home, but when that time came, I realized that I was ready for bed. Actually this one was pretty local too – just a short walk to her house. I was delighted to see my former patient, Mrs. Benton, and her daughter. As you can see, her neighbors were a very friendly group – both the people and the dogs.

Mrs. Benton's daughter wore a fabulous tee shirt.

Even the dogs were super friendly!

An Unplanned Day

2011-08-04T20:04:00.000-07:00

I had been seriously planning to go to a Lutheran Hymnfest at the Cathedral, and had been looking forward to it for at least a month. Singing hymns is one of my funnest things to do. Sunday morning, I told my friends at church that I would see them the next evening. Then Monday morning, with my usual pre-tea stupor and post-work hangover, I lay in bed and planned my day. I do this every morning, and then when, as usually happens, things don't go the way I had planned, I can get all frustrated and feel inadequate. As a rule, I plan to do a lot more than I possibly could, so I am doomed to failure from the start. On that morning, as I planned my day, it seemed like a good day to fix Dakki dinner and watch a movie with her. So I called and asked her to come join me for dinner, and of course she accepted. Dakki is not one to turn down free food, no matter what the source. As soon as I hung up the phone, I remembered the Hymnfest! What to do? Disinvite Dakki, or bag the Hymnfest. I didn't really have another available day in the near future to have Dakki, so I decided to stay home and fix a nice dinner. I had been planning to make a bean entree, from a nice bag of giant white Greek beans that were hiding somewhere in my pantry. But I had recently rearranged my dried foods so as to foil the mousies who were helping themselves. Tobias has taken care of them, I am happy to add. Anyway, I could not find the Greek beans, no matter how hard I looked.. I had a box of haricots verts and so decided to use them instead. Unfortunately, I put in too much water and they turned into bean soup. No problem! Bean soup is yummy (sometimes).

Our dinner was good, and our movie was better. We watched Otto Preminger's "Bunny Lake is Missing," a rather quirrky Hitchcockian sort of mystery from the early sixties. I have watched several Otto P films lately, and enjoyed them quite a bit. While I had heard of this one, I had not heard much. The title didn't sound too promising, and the review I read was not that enthusiastic either. However it turned out to be very enjoyable. Carol Lynley was the young mother who, days after moving to England, went to pick her child up after the first day at the new school, only to find that Bunny is missing, and no one has seen her. No one at all! Kier Dullea plays her handsome but somewhat sinister and overly affectionate brother, Sir Laurence Olivier the suave police inspector, and Noel Coward her amusingly perverted, Chihuahua carrying, alcoholic landlord, owner of an original whip once belonging “to the Master Himself,” the Marquis de Sade, or so he says. As he is being questioned, he asks the Police Inspector if he would be so kind as to give him a few lashes with it. As the movie progresses, we begin to wonder whether the child, Bunny, has ever existed, as no one, has seen her – or if she is a figment of her fragile mother’s imagination.

The next day I was telling Becca about my missing beans, and she walked into my pantry and spotted them immediately. Grrrr!

A perfectly imperfect day

2011-07-30T11:21:00.000-07:00

John and Peggy came for a fun evening of food and cards. I felt that my dinner was pretty lacking, as it was dependent on fresh produce, and the produce was pretty lacking. Hence….. At least I like to blame it on the produce. The company was not lacking, as Peggy and John are high on the list of the wonderful. The cards were not lacking in the least, except that, not unexpectedly, I came in last. Fortunately, I am used to this, and deal with it quite well. Besides bringing their wonderful selves, Peggy, an avid quilter, brought me a lovely little Peggy-made packet for the small necessaries that one keeps in one’s purse. It is pretty and perfect, impressive in its neatness and exactness. If I were to sew such a thing, it might look pretty, but it would not look impressively perfect. I am a true blue imperfectionist.

A work day lunch

2011-07-27T17:44:00.000-07:00

Generally speaking, I fix myself a nicer work lunch than I do a home-alone dinner, since I will eat the work lunch with my friends, and somehow, it seems more fun to eat with others, and hence more worth the bother. On my days off, I often plan to make myself something nice, but when the time comes to actually do it, I most often don’t. A piece of toast with marmalade will usually do. Mornings before work are sort of a wasteland anyway, so preparing something attractive seems like a good way to spend a bit of time. Yesterday, I decided to use up some things in my cupboard and vegetable bin to make a pasta salad. The result was particularly felicitous, I thought. You might enjoy making it, or something similar, too, so here is what I did.

Colorful Pasta Salad

This is enough for two work dinners for one fairly piggy person.

6 ounces pasta, in this case, lovely little fiori,

One tomato, sliced and roasted at 375° for about 45 minutes,

Enough olive oil to lightly coat the pasta,

Juice from half a juicy lemon,

¼ teaspoon salt,

Pepper,

¼ chopped parsley,

Tablespoon chopped basil,

2 scallions, thinly sliced,

Half a cucumber, seeded and chopped into pencil eraser sized pieces,

¼ cup thinly sliced celery,

A carrot, blanched in boiling water for one minute and then julienned,

Strawberries, sliced,

¼ cup feta cheese, crumbled. Leave this out if you are a vegan.

Roast the tomato. Boil the pasta as directed, until nicely al dente. Drain it and shake off any extra water. Pour on enough olive oil to coat each piece. Add the lemon juice, salt and pepper to taste, and toss to mix it evenly. Add the green leafies, the celery, cucumber, and the carrot. Reserve the tomato, strawberries, and feta to toss in at the last minute. It is a very tasty, as well as pretty, salad.

The tomato didn’t add much, and unless I had a really spectacular tomato, I would not bother with it next time.

A three blog day

2011-07-24T22:49:00.000-07:00

Today was really a three blog-worth day. First, there was the St. James picnic. This is always a major event of my summer . Picnics are fun in any case, but this one has the added funness of seeing choir friends for the first time in a month. Usually I also view the day as a giant photo op, and take lots of pictures, but this year, given that I was going to work immediately afterward, I was more interested in foraging for food. The hot dog and veggie burger lines were unfortunately très long, so I settled for an ice cream sandwich, and a bun with mustard. Actually, a bun with mustard and an ice cream sandwich is a pretty yummy repast, so I am not complaining.

Then - a really major, major, major event at my job. My unit is the first to move into our incredible new hospital facility, and today was moving day! Our patients were transferred from funky to fabulous in not quite the blink of an eye, but almost. I remained behind on the old unit to see to the last few to be discharged, and of course there were issues with all three. Discharges can be so trying at times. Two of them were easily settled, but the third required the higher powers of our already harried manager. That group left grumbling about us, and we grumbled about them as the transporter wheeled them out of our lives, so it all came out even. Well, not really. They probably were still grumbling an hour later, but we had smiles on our faces as prepared to move the final bits and pieces to our wonderful new digs.

Packing up!

Maria at the new charge nurse station

Dr. Aaronson checking it out!

And what was the third blog worthy event? Why, the weather! Here in Seattle, the summer has been gloriously gloomy, with at least a bit of rain most days, and not much heat at all. The roses and tomatoes are suffering, but I have not been. Then suddenly, this morning, summer arrived. Dreadful! It was 90° on my front porch when I got home at five. And 94° in my bedroom! Ugh!

A Boring Day

2011-07-18T19:36:00.000-07:00

Rebecca is at work, and I'm sitting in her flat, waiting for the stove man to deliver her a new stove! Why is it that when you have exactly your usual means of entertainment at hand - a good book, knitting, a cute kitty - it is still so boring to wait for stove men at someone else's house? I am getting desperate for a cup of tea, but am afraid to make one lest the stove man come midway. I'm sure he will not come within the given parameters, because that’s the way of stove men. But I am mainly reluctant because Rebecca always handles the tea making here, and I don't know where she keeps my favorite kind. That would be Pu Erh when I am visiting her. I have different favorites for different occasions, of course. Plain old Irish Breakfast when I first get up and until noon, and then lapsang souchong for later in the day. And something more dainty when I have dainty guests. Ana and I always enjoy a pot of flowering tea, but that is only for very special occasions.

Hmmmm! What to do! Take some pictures, dream

about tea, forage for a cookie, write about my ennui, pet Maria, go back to my book.

I keep thinking I hear stove men and have already put Maria in the bathroom once, but it is always false alarms!

Aargh!! Got a call from Rebecca! The stove men are not coming at all today. Drat stove men!

Back home now~

Here are pictures I took to while away the time. One of Maria, and one of the Raggedy Ann that I made for Becca when she was a baby. She says that she still remembers me sewing on it, and being excited. She had to have been well under two. Also a cat she got as a being born present from my Uncle Robert. You can see that these two are well loved. Raggedy Ann has her stockings on sideways and only one arm, but Becca doesn’t care.

A Dopey Day

2011-07-13T23:48:00.000-07:00

I was so pleased with my swing and the little padding I made for it, that I decided to take a picture of it before settling in for a nice early evening read. Minutes after this was taken, I picked up my book and flopped down, right onto my glasses. No, they were not okay after the mishap, but being an orthopedic nurse, I was able to straighten them out. I was nearing the end of my book when Rebecca called and invited me to tea. Naturally, I was thrilled, leapt up, and cycled right on over there. We had a pleasant visit, and then I cycled home. As I pedaled along, I was a little concerned about the phone in my shorts pocket. What if it falls out, I worried. Maybe I shouldn’t carry it there. I got home, all eager to finish my book, and …… no phone. Oh, dear! A near disaster! I got my old-fashioned telephone and called myself. I went to different parts of the house and called myself some more. No little ring anywhere. I called Becca. No, I hadn’t left it there. It must be lying in the road, I thought. My early premonition was fulfilled. (Are premonitions “fulfilled?” I’m not sure. But you understand what I mean.) I felt that I couldn’t stand to be even one day without a phone in my pocket. She said to come over and she would help me get a new one. We could either order it, or go to the phone store, which was open late. As I retraced my way back to her house, I watched for little phone bodies in the road, and kept thinking I had found it, only to actually find a squashed cigarette packet or a grey leaf. Sigh! When I got there, she was all comfy in her pajamas, and was on line getting advice from Anna the telephone woman. Anna was a little unpleasant about the whole thing, and said we had to go to the phone store. So we did, and I got a cute new one that takes better pictures than the old one. Becca and I bought ice cream cones to comfort ourselves, returned to her house, figured out the new phone’s basics, and then I began to get nervous about riding in the dark without a light, so I shoved off and cycled home, with my eye still peeled for a little telefonino body. More cigarette packets and leaves, but no phone. I got home, eager to read the last few pages of my book. I moved the other books and newspapers that covered my bed, and guess what I found! Smirking out at me, smug at having not made any noise when I called it! Oh well! The new one is pretty low tech, given the possibilities, but is nicer than the old one, so I am pleased.

An Outdoorsy Day

2011-07-11T12:53:00.000-07:00

I have been wanting to have a dinner outside for ages and ages. Either my guests didn’t want to venture forth, or the weather was so uninviting that even I realized that it was not the best idea, or, as in the case with the last meal mentioned, Ana and I were so done in with our trek about town that it didn’t seem worth the effort. So I was determined that this weekend we would have an al fresco meal rain or shine. There has been a lot more rain than shine this year, and the weather today was rather iffy. In the morning it was beautiful, by noon it was looking a little ominous, but when dinnertime came, it was perfect.

For years, Rebecca and I prepared a Fourth of July picnic in our yard, but for the last few, our work schedules interfered with our plans. So while this wasn’t a Holiday Event, the menu included our traditional Fourth of July cuisine – Rebecca’s weenie bread and mock choux. Also red, white, and blue potato salad, belatedly in honor of the day. Our friends Martha and Joe joined us. Martha, a brilliant cook, brought tomato treats, strawberries, and the yummiest ever cookies – two types whose names I already don’t remember. Italian though, and scrumptious.

Red, white, and blue potato salad and mock choux

Martha took some great pictures, which were better than mine, especially of the food. You can see them here.

A shopping day

2011-07-09T13:14:00.000-07:00

A walk to Chinatown and then the Market! What a fun day we had. Long ago, Ana and I decided to make our friend Mia’s meal-in-a-minute soup recipe. This included pot stickers, which are one of my favorite foods. Now finding frozen pot stickers is not difficult, but finding vegetarian ones is a little harder. Maybe hard isn’t the right word – no special effort or talent is required, but luck is. We were both keeping an eye out for them, and had been for several months, and then we both found them on almost the same day. It was kind of mysterious how that happened. So, having finally gotten the main ingredient, we took a trek to Chinatown to get the rest of the ingredients – actually, I guess we didn’t really need to go there for anything, but it is always a fun outing and I needed some sea weedy things which were not necessary, but which we added in. And Ana really did need to go to the Market, so we mixed business with pleasure.

Miso Soup a la Mia

2 tablespoons hijiki

10 shitaki mushrooms, soaked and sliced

1 large carrot, julienned

½ cup snow peas

½ cup onion, chopped

7 cloves garlic, minced

1 teaspoon fresh ginger, grated

1 cup tofu, diced

4 tablespoons miso paste (we used half sweet white and half barley)

¾ lb fresh spinach

About 6 frozen pot stickers

Sesame oil

Bring 6 cups water to a boil. Dissolve miso paste(s) in water. Add grated ginger, onion, garlic, and pot stickers. Cover and cook three minutes. Add remaining ingredients. Cover and cook additional three minutes. Garnish with sesame oil.

A nice shandy was the perfect accompaniment.

After dinner, we watched a Nancy Drew movie with Bonita Granville. One of the main google searches which sends people to this blog is “pictures of Bonita Granville.” So here, for your viewing pleasure, one is – direct from my TV screen to you!

A Festive Day

2011-07-04T12:10:00.000-07:00

A past Fourth of July with Tom, Margaret, and Becca

Happy Fourth of July to all of you.

A Reminiscent Day

2011-06-30T22:36:00.000-07:00

Today was the 86^th birthday of my sainted Uncle Billy Guppy, God rest his soul! My Aunt Pauline and I had a date for doing toenails, and had planned to have our usual toenail-cutting-day-lunch of tomato soup. However, as she had mentioned the birthday to me, I thought a cake would be in order – nice lemon cake, and of course, some strawberry ice cream.

This is one of my favorite “make in minutes” cakes, and it has a little history. A very little, but a happy history. In 1974, my father gave me a Cuisinart food processor. At that time, they were very new, very expensive, and I wanted one desperately. But, as I said, they were very expensive, which eliminated me as a potential owner of one of these fabulous new machines. I don’t remember what the gift giving occasion was, but I think that it was a “no-occasion, just because I love you” sort of present. There were all kinds of warnings that came with it. They implied that it would be really easy to cut off a finger if one were not extremely careful. I was terrified, but thrilled every time I used it. I am much calmer now, as I realize that cutting off a finger would actually be pretty difficult. Yes, I am still using it, 37 years later. Can you believe it? At one time, I thought that if I ever got burgled, the first thing I would have to replace would be my food processor. When I actually did get burgled, I realized that the first thing I had to replace was my alarm clock. Fortunately, the burglars were not cooks and didn’t care about my kitchen equipment.

Along with the dire warnings, my dear machine came with a little recipe booklet, and several of the recipes became my meal-in-minutes standards. Sadly however, probably during a move, I lost the little booklet. I went to Fredrick and Nelson’s to see if the Cuisinarts there came with a booklet so that I could copy out the recipe. I explained my dilemma to the sales lady, and she helped me look, but alas, the then current booklet was newer and didn’t have the instructions for my cake. Imagine my surprise, when a couple of weeks later, I received the very booklet in the mail. The saleslady had written to the company to get a copy of the out-of-print booklet, and then sent it on to me. What a wonderful store Fredrick’s was. But that is a topic for another day.

Every time I want to make this cake, finding the booklet is a challenge, so I am sharing the recipe with you, thus making it easier for me to find when I want it.

Quick, Easy, Yummy Lemon Cake

1 lemon

125 grams granulated sugar (1/2 cup)

1 stick (4 oz) unsalted butter, cut into 4 pieces

2 large eggs

138 grams flour (1 cup minus 2 tablespoons)

1 teaspoon baking powder, stirred into the flour

½ cup confectioners sugar

Heat the oven to 350°. Prepare an 8 inch round pan, greasing and flouring it well. Zest the lemon, and place the zest in the bowl of the food processor. With the processor running, slowly add the sugar. Add the butter, and process till smooth. Add the eggs, processing about 20 seconds after each egg addition. Add the flour and baking powder all at once. Quickly pulse the processor 2 or 3 times – just until the flour disappears. Any longer will make the cake tough. Turn the batter into the pan and bake it for 20 minutes, or until the top springs back when lightly touched. Actually, I had to bake it for 30 minutes today, but usually it takes only 20. Cook the cake for a few minutes in the pan, and then cool on a cake rack.

While the cake is baking, squeeze the juice from the lemon, and mix the powdered sugar into it. When the cake has cooled a bit, spread the lemon juice mixture over the cake. I usually do this in several rounds.

This is a very nice cake, buttery and not too sweet.

Cake and Ice Cream Transport!

Party Days

2011-06-27T11:19:00.000-07:00

There has been a delightful plethora of blog-worthy events lately, and I just can’t keep up. First there was the Parish Ministries Dinner, an annual fun event that I haven’t thought seemed potentially fun since Tom died, as for some reason, he seemed such an essential part of this particular gathering. Every year, I have planned to go, and then at the last minute, I have found some reason why I should stay home. This year, I was brave, forged on, and luckily met my pals Peggy and John. So it did turn out to be a fun event, despite my misgivings.

Close on the tail of that, the choir ladies gave a baby shower for soprano Angela. Usually I go to these events with Rachael, but somehow, she missed the boat and didn’t realize it was even on until the day before, and she already had made other plans. I was disappointed, and she was sorry that no one had pressed the information on her a little more aggressively. One never quite knows, with the younger set, where friendly suggestions or reminders leave off, and where nagging begins. Better safe than sad, I say. So once again, I was on my own, and once again I had a lovely time. Angela looked beautiful, the food was great, and the company was enjoyable.

A card playing evening

2011-06-25T14:35:00.000-07:00

I love to play games – card games, board games, word games. Ever since the time I played Candyland (a hideous game most parents are subjected to) with my mother, I have loved games. She was a trouper and played with me often. Payback time was when I had to play it with my little brother. Ugh! I was so glad when he graduated to Pollyanna – a game which probably no longer exists, except in my closet. It was similar to Parcheesi. This game was much more intellectual. Not only was it about Pollyanna, whom I loved, but it required a little thought. Frankie’s Candyland winning streak was over. Then I started playing card games with my father, and my winning streak was over. I usually won when I played Casino with my Grandmother or her sisters, and it never once occurred to me that they might actually have won if they hadn’t all doted on me so. I just figured that I was brilliant at Casino. More recently, I played with Rachael and she always won. And not because I dote on her so, although I do dote on her. Two games I never, never, ever win are Scrabble and Monopoly (aka Monotony). I did win at Scrabble once and still have the scorecard. My cousin, who usually wins, even rudely checked to be sure that his addition had been correct.

So I was happy to spend some time with The Twins playing Quiddler. When I play games with them, I am happy as a clam, but I feel like my brother Frank must have felt when playing Pollyanna with me. Destined to lose. He once threw the board at my head. I have never felt quite like that when playing with The Twins, but I do feel at the outset that I am not going to win, no matter what we are playing. They are brilliant game sharks! And one or the other of them always wins. Not just Quiddler, but every game we ever play. Until a few evenings ago when I actually won a game! This is a game at which I always win when playing with The Aunties, but never when playing with The Twins. However, hope springs eternal! Not only did I win, but I won spectacularly! And not because they dote on me either. They may do that, but it doesn’t get in the way of their intense urge to conquer in games.

So a delightful evening, complete with delicious pasta, a lovely passeggiata, and games, one of which I finally won. Do I gloat? No. One cannot really gloat about winning one game out of more than a hundred, but one can feel a tiny bit smug.

An evening stroll

This all reminds me of a time when my father and his friend beat my mother and her friend at Bridge – a rare event. They made a Grand Slam, and then had an article about it, detailing their brilliant bidding, put in the town newspaper. Obviously that was a town with little newsworthy going on.

Adoption Day

2011-06-23T23:02:00.000-07:00

Adoption day was actually a week ago, but the little adoptee spent the first three days in his new home hiding behind the washing machine. He occasionally came out surreptitiously to go to the potty, but other than that, he remained very elusive. This was worrisome because my washing machine is such that I can’t look behind it, and so I was not actually even sure he was there. And if there, if he was okay. Very disturbing. As he wasn’t anywhere else, I decided that was where he had to be. On one of his few forays out, I blocked his entrance so that he couldn’t get back in, but he foiled me and found an alternative way into his lair. I cleverly managed to block that too. Finally, he tentatively decided to get acquainted. First with Margaret, then with me. Margaret is thrilled to have a new cat brother, and I am quite pleased to have a cat child.

So, may I introduce my cat Geoffrey Tobias? He is a lovely, loving big boy with an extraordinarily grey nose. In fact, he is ~~hindering~~ helping me type this right now. What a sweet fellow he is.

A Reminiscent Day

2011-06-22T13:01:00.000-07:00

Madeleines! Such exquisite, delightful little buttery scallops, yet I hadn’t made them for years. As I was searching for my recipe, and then mixing them up, a flood of Madeleine memories arose – and not entirely lovely memories. I recalled the first time I made them. It was many years ago, and Rebecca was quite little. It was a stunning summer day, bright and vivid with searing blue skies. Dennis had a friend visiting, and I no doubt was making them for afternoon tea. I am an inveterate licker of the mixing spoon, having, unlike many, no fear of raw eggs in the dough. This day was no exception. Yum! In another respect, however, this day was the exception. Minutes after I presented the dainty meal, I was in the bathroom suffering all sorts of misery. I was trying to be subtle about things for which there can be no real subtlety. I must have been reasonably subtle though, because I do not recall an outpouring of sympathy. I am guessing that Rebecca was not at home, because she surely would have insisted on sharing the damp dough, and even more surely, if not in the bathroom suffering with me, would have been in the bathroom with me, offering aid, assistance, and loving comfort.

Years later, when Rebecca was big, Rachael was little, and I was in nursing school, I was making them for a psychology class event. I have mentioned before I think, that when I am cooking and am nervous about the reception of my fare, everything I make tastes like sand. This was no exception. I tried one and it was a mouthful of grit. I was talking to my friend Godmommy on the phone as I worked, and she assured me that it was just my nerves. They had to be good. Reassuring, but not totally reassuring. Then Rebecca arrived home and tried one. “These are disgusting,” she said. “Are you really going to take them to your class?” Well, given that my class was in about a half an hour, I was. As you can imagine, I was filled with horror and dread. Once again, Godmommy, still on the line, was reassuring. She pointed out that Rebecca had been irked at me about something or other earlier, and so she too, probably had an emotionally induced taste impairment. I slunk off to my class, dreading the moment when everyone gagged on my presentation. Mirabile dictu! They were an enormous success and everyone wanted the recipe. Incidentally, this was the class in which I met Samos. Maybe my brilliant Madeleines were what made him want to be my friend.

Madeleines

1 cup flour

½ cup sugar

2 eggs

½ c butter

Zest of one lemon

Pinch salt

½ tsp vanilla

½ tsp rum

Grease and flour the Madeleine pans very well. Heat the oven to 400°.

Beat the eggs with the salt until they are stiff. Add in the sugar gradually, and beat some more. Add the vanilla and rum if you are using it. Fold in the flour, about a quarter a time. Add a quarter of the butter at a time. Mix it in well. Fill the pans about ¾ full and bake immediately. They take about 10 minutes and are done when they are golden with crispy edges. This will make about 18 medium sized madeleines.

To my surprise, I had no rum, so I used a little Grand Mariner instead. Probably that made them better.

I used a regular metal pan and a silicone pan which I borrowed from Rebecca. As you can see, the ones baked in the metal pans turned out nicer – evenly browned and no bubbles. Rebecca borrowed my metal pan when she made a vegan version and had the opposite experience. Her vegan Madeleines were delicious – maybe even better than my classic omnivore ones.

Another Fun Day

2011-06-17T09:52:00.000-07:00

My early morning plan for the day yesterday primarily included laundry, vacuuming, and a jaunt to an animal shelter to try to find the perfect kitty. And with luck, a little knitting and reading. An early morning call changed all that. “Let’s go for a walk in Discovery Park,” Samos suggested. Great idea! We did stop at an animal shelter, but it wasn’t open yet, so no kitty. Our walk was wonderful! Let the pictures speak!

So, my early morning plan for today includes laundry, vacuuming, and a jaunt to an animal shelter to try to find the perfect kitty. I’m hoping there is time for a little knitting and reading as well. We’ll see.