Making

 

Today was a making day.  Once I got my usual morning chores done--yoga, newspaper, puzzles, write the prompt, dress--I paged through my WW binder to find a soup recipe
because I finished the 3 Bean Chili or at least the half of it that isn't frozen solid.  I settled on the Egg Drop Soup but, of course, I can't just make it as written.  I had to add some cooked chicken breast, a diced red onion (because I didn't have a cup of scallions), sauteed mushrooms, and the rest of a bag of lima beans (because it needed something green).  I think the secret of successful egg drop soup is finding a packet of sauteed sliced mushrooms in the freezer that's a little old, semi-thawing them, chopping them up, and tossing them in.  Last time I used a can of mushrooms but they weren't sauteed in a tiny bit of butter that adds so much flavor to the mix.  Yum.  I'll have to keep my eyes peeled for mushrooms on special so I can lay in a supply of frozen sauteed goodness.

Clouds rolled in after lunch so I settled down with my mitten and by suppertime it was finished.  It's very soft and very warm and I have just enough yarn left in the ball to knit the second one.  I kept careful track of how many rows I knit for each part so I can replicate it to have a matching pair.  I know, I'm not a matching kind of girl but this mitten fits exactly right and I'd like the mate to do the same.

 

 

26 September--Barbara Malcolm, Better Than Mom's. 

He frowned at the plastic covered paper in his hand as if it had offended him.  Stupid, he thought, stupid line.  How dopey can he get to just say ‘nope’ when she gave him the perfect opening?  He could see, if he peeked up under his lowered brows, that she was standing in front of him, order pad and pencil ready to take his lunch order.

 “Mm, I think that today I will have a bowl of soup and a turkey club.” 

“What kind of soup would you like, sir?  We have cream of mushroom which is the cream soup of the day, hearty beef and tomato made with the freshest tomatoes hand picked before dawn, and chunky vegetable, which is our vegetarian selection of the day.” 

“Is the cream of mushroom home made?” 

She drew herself up in offense.  “All of our soups are home made every day, sir.  Indeed, all of our menu items are made fresh daily.” 

“Oh, okay.” 

“What variety of bread would you like?  We have white, whole wheat, and marble rye for your pleasure today.” 

“Rye, please.” 

“And to drink?” 

“I will have a glass of iced tea, no lemon.” 

“Sweet or regular tea?” 

“Sweet.” 

She turned away to put in his order, pushing her pencil behind her right ear as she went. 

Norman stared after her as she swung her hips as she walked like she knew he was watching.  He snapped back when someone elbowed him in the ribs. 

“Do not mind Fay,” Raymond said.  “She has been spending time with Stevie the scribbler these days.” 

“What?” Norman felt as if he were coming in in the middle of a conversation. 

“You were wondering why she was talking all formal like that, weren't you?” 

Norman had not noticed, being too busy trying to keep his cool.  “Uh, yeah.  How come she was talking like that?”  

Raymond made a disgusted sound.  “I told you, she has been sitting back there talking to Stevie.  Stevie’s a writer; it turns out he writes some popular historical romance novels.  Fay pried it out of him a couple of weeks ago and she and he have been kind of chummy ever since.  I sit here and watch the two of them in that back booth and I do not think I ever saw old Stevie talk so much.”  Raymond nodded toward the back of the room.  “He used to work for me when I was vice president of the mill, you know.” 

Norman looked at the older man with a small understanding smile.  “Yeah, I know.” 

He remembered how hard it had been for his old man when he retired from being a cop.  One day you are patrolling town with a gun on your hip, keeping the world your family lives in safe, and the next day you are shuffling around the house in slippers and a stretched out cardigan getting in your wife’s way.  He had heard that Raymond’s wife had only stood about a month of him being retired before she divorced his ass, took half of his money, most of his furniture, and all of his brand new pearl gray Lexus four door sedan, and skedaddled off to Arizona.  So, he supposed old Raymond still had not gotten over being in charge of everything around him, especially now that he did not even have a wife to boss around. 

“Do you think that Fay and Stevie are dating?” Norman asked Raymond. 

“No, I do not,” Raymond said. “I think if they were Fay would not be as nice to him as she is.” 

“What do you mean?” 

“I mean, I think that Fay is the kind of woman who is all peaches and cream when she is flirting with you and once she has you good and hooked she turns into a, well, a witch, if you know what I mean.” 

Today's toss was a stack of coloring books for grownups.  I was intrigued by them when the craze was hot but never really fell under the spell.  I colored a couple pages in one of them and none in the other two so someone will find lots of fun things to color.  

It occurred to me yesterday when I was digging out needles to use to knit the mitten that it might be a good idea to go through my works-in-progress (WIPs) and gather up all the needles languishing in bags.  Sounds like a good way to sort through some of my yarn, etc.  As long as I'm tossing things I might as well make some fiber decisions.  Eek.

--Barbara