An Operatic Day

What is your favorite book?  Your favorite opera?  Such difficult questions!  Recently Corinna challenged me to list my ten favorite books, and I actually started making a list, but it was impossible.  My favorite would be something by Dickens, but then there is George Eliot, and across the Atlantic, Huckleberry Finn, a major contender for the "World's Greatest Novel" title.  But if Dickens, then which Dickens?  Another impossible question.  If the criterion is “most often read,” then either David Copperfield or Great Expectations would be the winner.  But then there are Bleak House and Little Dorrit  – not to mention Our Mutual Friend.  Aargh!  As for George Eliot, Middlemarch is a regular phenomenon.  Every time I have read it, it is a completely different book, no doubt because I am, in a sense, a completely different person.  The characters I once found sympathetic, I later found pathetic, and vice versa.  Just like in real life.  Remember that girl who was soooo cool in high school?  And look at her now.  A total loser. 

What is my favorite opera?  Usually it is the one I have most recently seen, but a couple consistently remain in the top tier, and the opportunity to see them again is an all too rare treat.  The first time I saw Don Giovanni, I was, as they say in the vernacular, “completely blown away.”  I wanted to go again immediately, but …..  finances didn’t permit.  This season, I was luckier.  I received tickets to the dress rehearsal, and so took Rachael, who has been hinting for quite a while that Rebecca is not the only one who should be taken to the opera.   Then again four days later with Rebecca to the actual performance.  It is soooo, soooo wonderful.  It goes without saying that the music is beyond fabulous, full of top hits.  And with the addition of a good story, wit, humor, and a satisfying ending as the Don, who refuses to repent of his sins and amend his rakish lifestyle, is sucked into the fiery pit and eternal punishment, it is a rare winner.   I wonder if I should go again this weekend.  Hmmmmmmm!

See a little preview here.

An Autumn Day

Autumn is my favorite season, both because summer is finally over – no more sweaty, sleepless nights -  and because, not only the weather, but everything else is so beautiful.  Also, being a Libra, I must have a particular affinity for these crisp, cool, magnificently hued days.  Samos and I, although it is not an official policy between us, seem, every October, to take an photography walk in the Arboretum.  Recently, the weather has been less than brilliant.  In fact, “deluge” might describe it, but even that is cozy as long as one is safe inside. 

These pictures are by both of us.  Can you tell which are which?  Hint – his are the better ones.  

We made a special little side trip to admire this tree, which is a particular favorite of Samos.   

Another hint.  His are the bottom three.   

A Triumphal Day for a Procrastinator

Horrible, isn't it?

What else has nudged its way into blogging time?  Well, everyone knows that I am the arch procrastinator.  I have lots of undone tasks, all of which I expect to finish some day, but none has, in days of late, caused me the procrastinator anxiety that my fence has.  For over two years, I have been babbling about painting my fence, whining because it was so ugly, and generally fretting about it.  Finally, as another winter was fast approaching and sunny days could not be counted on, with the help (lots of help) of dear Samos, I took the bull by the horns – or rather the fence by the scraper and paint brush, and got going on it.

  I cannot say that it is entirely done, because there is a bit left, and it needs a second coat, but it looks much better.  This was a hideous ordeal, but I am happy that is done – or, I should say, sort of done.  As soon as a few more dry days come, I will, I will, I will, finish it.  I promise.  

Samos helping with, er - doing, the prep work.

And where is the picture of the sparkling white fence?  Maybe I will get to that tomorrow. 

Cookie Day

Whoa!  It’s been a while.  And it’s not because I didn’t have any blogworthy happenings, but because there were way too many.  I took pictures to illustrate a number of blog posts which never materialized because I was busy experiencing other blogworthy events.  I will try to catch up a bit. 

You all probably know about the “choir treats” ordeal.  It is one about which I have very mixed feelings.  On one hand, it is fun to prepare food, and fun to have other people appreciate and enjoy it, but I tend to freak out about it.   It has become much less of an ordeal since Friend John and I joined forces.  He and Peggy are the most soothing people in the world, and when he (or they) arrive to fetch me and my offerings, they immediately calm my ruffled feathers and all becomes serene.   This year, Rachael suggested that I make some molasses and some pumpkin cookies.  So I did.  The molasses cookies that I wanted to make were the ones I had made with Rachael when she was wee.  Her first cookie cooking experience ever.  I thought she would be excited about breaking in the eggs, but not she.  Rachael was a dainty one from the very first.  The thought of possibly getting egg, on her fingers was way too repellant so I did the egg.  I always enjoy cracking an egg.  The cookie making  was fun, and remains a happy memory (for both of us, I think.)  But …. I couldn’t find the recipe.  I had looked for the book I knew it was in, a Better Homes and Gardens Christmas Special, often over the years, but it seemed to have disappeared.  I’ll give it one more try, I decided.  I prayed to St Anthony, and then started to delve though my cookbooks.  But no delving was needed.  In true St Anthony fashion, but book I was seeking was right there!  And I had looked right there so many, many times before.  St Anthony is a real miracle worker.

So that I never have to worry about losing it again, here is the recipe.  These cookies are a quick to make, and very delicious, especially if you are an ginger fan, as I am.

Molasses Cookies

2 ¼ cups all purpose flour

2 tsp ground ginger

1 tsp baking soda

¾ tsp cinnamon

½ tsp cloves

¼ tsp salt

3/4 cup butter or shortening

1 cup sugar

1 egg

¼ cup molasses

2 tbs sugar

Heat the oven to 350º

Combine the dry ingredients and mix well.

Beat the butter or shortening with the sugar till fluffy.  Add the molasses and the egg and beat some more.  Stir in the flour mixture until well combined.  Put the two tablespoons of sugar in a small mixing bowl. Form the dough into walnut sized balls and roll each ball in the sugar.  Place the balls on a cookie sheet, about 2 inches apart, and bake for about 10 minutes.  

Little Rachael helping her mom make cookies.  Note Michael Ryan, the cat, trying to come help too.  

A Stressful Day, er - Week

The last week has been very trying for Tobias and me.  Rachael’s bathroom had ick under the floor, and so the whole room had to be redone.  Given that the bathroom was her one sorrow with her otherwise stellar apartment, it turned out to be a good thing. The down side was that she and her kitties had to stay with me for a week.  I was looking forward to Rachael’s visit, but the kitties – not so much.  Bunny had visited in the past when Rachael was on vacation, and she turned out to be an unideal houseguest and a tormentrix to poor innocent Tobias. She is a great beauty, and like many of that ilk, takes advantage of her magnificence, expecting adulation at every turn.   As soon as she and her sister Keanu, who immediately went into hiding, to emerge only occasionally at meal time,  arrived, we all retired, done in by our day at the Fair.  Bunny, however, leapt onto my lap, screeched at Tobias, ripped my pajamas, fortunately not drawing blood, and then settled herself on my pillow from which she refused to be budged.  She growled, with occasional escalations into hissing, all night long, right in my ear.   Later, she took over Tobias’s couch, jumped up onto anything high, and knocked my tchotchkes from their places of honor.  

Note the picture of Rebecca on the piano -- Oh, it's not there.  It's on the floor!

Ever a lover of altitude, she climbed onto my second floor banister while I watched in horror.  

She is so fierce that I was reluctant to dissuade her.  Thinking that cats understand this sort of thing, I just stared in helpless fascination.  But when she slipped off on the non-stair side, and was hanging by her fingernails, (see photo below - same pose)  she needed to be rescued. 

I bravely grabbed her, and, rather than lacerating my hand, she seemed to be actually grateful for the intervention.  She never again tried to get onto the banister, which, now scarred by her talons, will be an eternal memento of her visit.    

By the end of the week, things were much calmer with only the occasional outbreak of hisses and screeches.  When I heard that the bathroom was not ready and I would have my guests for three more days, I was pleased.  

Everything here is mine!