Foodwise, I started out cooking 4 hard-boiled eggs while I took a speed shower. Durwood ordered a set of Egglets, silicone cups with screw-on lids that you crack an egg into and then boil it. I have never been able to make a decent hard-boiled egg and if I did cook it right the shell stuck to it making it nearly impossible to peel. I can make hard-boiled eggs in the Egglets and I like having one sliced on a salad or as an egg sandwich for lunch.
Then I made breakfast wraps using a recipe I found on thepounddropper.com. I found 1 point tortillas at Meijer that you spread with a wedge of Laughing Cow cheese, then spoon some eggs scrambled with Jimmy Dean Turkey Sausage Nuggets, and roll it up. I am happy to report that I am all out of the colored Reynolds Wrap so I have to use clear--which is much more appetizing than the oddball colors.
Despite what I write on here I've spend the last year eating my grief which translates to eating all the wrong stuff, in addition to the WW things I make. Well, I'm tired of myself so I'm working to hoist myself back up at least closer to the straight and narrow. I was marginally successful today except I might have eaten some of the snacks I meant to throw away. I'll start again tomorrow. In fact I'm kind of planning to treat every day as if it's the first day because I figure, to start anyway, it's easier to do something for only one day so I'm doing one day at a time. We'll see how it goes.
After supper I dug out the skein of Fishermen's Wool I've had in the stash for donkey's years and cast on the ribbing of a Main Squeeze Cardigan that's supposed to be knitted in super bulky yarn. I checked online and it said that 2 strands of worsted equals super bulky but I'm not convinced. Before I knit more I'll do a little research. My idea is to carry one of the natural and work my way through the colors from dark to light as I knit up the sweater. I'd love to buy all new yarn in the right weight for this but I'm determined to use this yarn and since I want another sweater I put the two together and am hoping for the best. (a-a-and I just did a little more research and found out I'll need to carry another strand to make super bulky. good thing I've only knitted four rows.)16 September--Barbara Malcolm, Horizon.
Clara
motioned to the chair nearest the door.
“Sit down. Let me pour you a cup
of tea.” She bustled to the dishwasher
for another mug. “Won’t the flowers
freeze if your heater’s broken?”
“No, they like it cold. Besides, it’s only the cab heater that’s
broken. The cooler for the flowers works
just fine. I’m Moira Kelly, by the way. I just opened a flower shop in downtown
Kingman.”
Clara and I introduced ourselves,
and Clara launched into a raft of questions for Moira.
“Where are you from?”
asked Clara, with the look in her eyes that always made me think of those old
black and white detective movies they sometimes show on the movie channel.
“I’m from Simpson.”
“What made you choose a
one-horse town like Kingman for your business?”
“I wanted to live in the country.” Moira weathered the barrage fairly
well, answering the early questions easily, so I kept my mouth shut.
“Where are you living?”
“There’s an apartment over the
shop.”
“When did you open?”
“I’ve been open two weeks.”
“How old are you?”
“I’m twenty-eight.”
“Are you married?”
With the last question a
wary look appeared on her freckled face.
“Why do you want to know if I’m married?” she asked with a little steel
in her voice.
I thought it was time to
interrupt. “Moira, you have to
understand two things about living in Kingman.
First, everyone will be talking about you before they get to know you,
trying to figure out how to fit you into life out here. And second, Clara has way too many children
and she’s always trying to marry off the last few. I imagine she had you picked out for Dan, her
youngest.”
“Gail, don’t be silly.” Clara blushed beet red. “I was just going to suggest she take her van
to Dan so he can fix the heater.” She
turned to Moira. “Dan’s a good
mechanic. Whenever anything broke around
our farm when Dan was growing up, he’d be out with a wrench and fix it right
up.” And then she laughed. “I’m sorry, Moira. I get carried away sometimes, but I was just
hoping to head off the gossips over at Mavis’ beauty salon.” A frown creased Clara’s broad forehead as a
horrible thought occurred, “You haven’t been in there yet, have you?”
“No, I haven’t. I’ve been so busy getting my shop set up the
last couple of weeks, the only person I’ve talked to has been Charlie from the
hardware store.”
Clara’s forehead cleared and she
nodded. “Good. I’m going to get my hair done this afternoon
so for once I can be the first to talk about something.”
Moira looked a little scared. “Sounds like Kingman runs on gossip.”
I reached over and patted her hand
as it lay on the table, fingers curled under.
I noticed a white line on her left hand ring finger. “Don’t you worry, honey. Gossip does make the wheels grind around
here, but it’s mostly well meant. It’s
just a faster way of getting the news than the weekly paper.” I tapped her ring finger. “Just separated?”
Tears filled her jade green eyes and
spilled down her cheeks.
I felt terrible. “I’m sorry.
I didn’t mean to make you cry.” I
handed her a napkin.
“It’s all right.” She wiped her eyes. “I’ve done a lot of crying over the past few
months.” She took a deep breath. “I might as well tell you the sad story,” she
smiled at Clara, “so you can spread all
the juicy gossip at Mavis’ this afternoon.”
She sipped her tea and took a deep breath. “Well, Peter and I got married right out of
high school. I went to the tech school
to learn landscape architecture. Peter
went to State across town to study acting.
He was great at it. He was in
every production his whole time there and I worked for a landscaper to pay the
bills. After he graduated, we moved to
New York so he could try to break into the theater. He got a few commercials and walk-ons on soap
operas, things like that. I worked for a
society florist and was earning a good reputation.”
I refilled her tea mug.
“Thanks. Anyway, you have no idea how many people
there are just like him, talented and willing to do almost anything to be
successful. He got a role in a touring
company last year.” She stopped talking
and gazed out the window. I knew she
wasn’t seeing the frosted pane and the snow outside. “The cast and crew of those shows get so
close… You can imagine what happened.”
Clara and I nodded.
“He called me from someplace in
South Dakota. He and one of the
actresses, the ingénue, had fallen in love.
The show was going to be in Reno in six weeks, would I mind if he got a
divorce there so they could get married?”
Clara couldn’t control herself. “What a skunk.”
She shook her head. “Not really, just an actor. It was hard for me to be sympathetic to his
struggles, to be interested in the petty backbiting they all engage in. He wasn’t interested in my world and seemed a
little jealous that my job gave me entrée into the better parties where I met
influential people from the stage and movies.
He wanted me to get him into some of the parties but my boss, Luca, was
totally against it once he learned that Peter was an actor. ‘He will not be paying attention to the
flowers. He will only think of who he
can introduce himself to,’ he’d say when I asked. And he was right.” She sipped her cooling tea. “I told him to get the
divorce and I stayed in New York for a few months. But rent’s too high and I worked so much I
didn’t have many friends. I was lonely
and broke. So I came home, lived with my
folks for a while, until I couldn’t bear another chorus of ‘I told you so’ and
moved to Kingman.” She looked at her
watch. “Oh gosh, I’ve got to go. One more delivery and then I can reopen the
shop. Stop in and visit next time you’re
in town.” She pulled her cap back on and
stuffed her glorious hair under it, wrapped her scarf around her face, and left
with a wave.
“She seems like a nice girl,” I said
as I took my first good look at the bouquet she’d delivered. “Talented, too.” Baby’s breath and ferns surrounded each rose;
each one looked like a separate bouquet.
“This is incredible.”
Clara was still looking at the back
door Moira had just closed. “I think
I’ll stop in her shop this afternoon with one of Dan’s cards. She needs her heater fixed and Dan’s a good
listener.”
“Clara, you’re incorrigible. Didn’t you hear a word she said? It’s going to take some time for her to be
ready to date again.”
“Oh, I know,” she said, waving away
my words, “but she still needs a mechanic and I think Dan might be just what
she needs. He’ll introduce her to a few people,
like Katie who does his books. She needs
to meet young people; that’s hard to do in such a small town.” She glanced at the roses. “Those are nice. Got to run.
I want to make Hank some lunch before I go to Mavis’.
I've come to the conclusion that I need to stop filling the birdfeeders for a while and get more cheap peanut butter and really salt the backyard with rat poison. I hate the idea of not feeding the birds but I also hate feeding THE RAT. Time to get serious.--Barbara
1 comment:
You are the busy bee -- doing all that cooking and parcelling out. But good for you. Glad the colored Saran is no more. It did make for some interesting looking food however. What about a trap for Mr. Rat? Know you don't want to deal with the result if it works but you could get your renter to help with the disposal of the body!
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