Breakfast In A Box

I got a package today and it was filled with an oatmeal breakfast.  See, there's this place called The Clearing where I've gone to a writing workshop at least once a year since 2001.  They serve oatmeal for breakfast every morning and have since the 1930s.  It's tradition.  In 2020, like so many other places, they had to cancel all of their sessions and like so many other places, they have had to get creative with financing.  One of their fundraising offerings is called An Oatmeal Awakening.  My writer friend and her friend offered to treat me (in thanks for a past favor) so on Monday, November 23 at 9AM I will be sitting down to a Zoom breakfast with friends.  The package includes oatmeal, dried cherries, granola, brown sugar, tea and coffee, and a tiny jar of honey.  I can't wait.

My Christmas cactus is really blooming.  Well, budding.  There are about five buds in various stages of growth.  I'm looking forward to the flowers, especially on this gray and dreary day.  And now I hear rain.  Yippee.

Today's recipe is a favorite:  Hoisin-Glazed Chicken.  It has star anise in the sauce and sesame oil so it smells divine when the sauce is cooking down.  I was happy to find the last portion of last time's Hoisin-Glazed Chicken in the fridge so I had it for supper with some steamed carrots.  Yum.  Once I got these labeled and in the freezer I paged through a pile of WW cookbooks and found a few possibilities using beef for next time.

I cast on another chunky cast sock this evening and got a few rounds knitted.  I added a few stitches so it won't be so scrawny as the last one and I'll knit it a little longer so it will be more adult male foot size.

 

 

14 November--Barbara Malcolm, The Seaview. 

              The rest of the morning, while Silas and Edward started scraping the peeling paint on the outside walls, Iggy and I went through the whole hotel.  I carried the file and a clipboard while he checked every inch of wiring and each junction box and dictated what he thought he would need.  We worked well together once we were over that little rough patch in the beginning.

Chapter 12

            Silas and Edward had moved into what would eventually be my bedroom. From my perch on the backyard bench pulling nails I heard them dragging the old bed frame into the middle of the room and working to take it apart. 

            "Pull," Silas said.

            Edward said "I am pulling but she is not letting go." 

            I heard a thud and a grunt and Edward's laugh.  "I sorry, Silas, I sorry to laugh at you but you fell like a windmill, waving your arms like you was trying to fly." 

            "Very funny," Silas said, "I nearly broke this bureau.  Good thing it slid when I fell on it." 

            I heard wood scraping on the floor. 

            "What is that?" said Edward.  "It looks like a big rusty washer on the floor." 

            Their voices got quiet.  I imagined them with their heads together peering at it. 

            Then Silas said, "Go get Mrs. Rose." 

            I dropped the hammer and the board from my lap, sure that something was wrong.  Edward came out onto the back porch as I stood up. "Mrs. Rose, Silas says will you come look."  His eyes were wide and he wasn't smiling. 

            "What is it?" I asked. 

            He took my arm.  "Just come, Mrs. Rose, just come." 

            Dread turned my stomach cold.  What could make Edward look so frightened? 

            Silas knelt on the floor.  He was bent over where the old chest of drawers had been.

            "What did you find?"

            He looked up and smiled.  "A mystery.  Maybe treasure if we are lucky." 

            "What?" I said. 

            He tugged me down to kneel beside him.  What I thought was a rusty washer turned out to be a keyhole.  My heart started to flutter.

            "Silas, have you ever seen such a thing?" 

            He shook his head.  "I never have but I read in books about people hiding things under the floor.  Maybe there is money in there." 

            Edward said, "Or pirate gold. Open it, Silas, open it." 

            Silas shook his head again.  "It is stuck.  I put my screwdriver in to try to lift it but it would not budge." 

            I ran my fingers over the floorboards and traced out a square about the size of a brownie pan around the keyhole, then leaned over to blow away the dust.  "Maybe if we clean around the edges it'll open." 

            Silas pulled a jackknife out of his pocket and opened a small blade.  He bent low to run the tip of the blade around the square. 

            "Be careful," I said, "you don't want to break your knife." 

            "I am being very careful, Mrs. Rose." 

            When he straightened up he slid the end of the screwdriver back into the keyhole and tugged.  Nothing happened.  A thought popped into my head. 

            "Keys," I said, "I have that ring of keys from the solicitor.  He said I would need every one.  Maybe one of them fits this lock." I stood up. "I'll be right back."

Today's toss was another box of notebooks.  Monday will have to be a drop off at Goodwill day, the back of the car is almost full.

As cheerful as I was yesterday is how blah I was today.  I wondered why I got dressed at all when I caught sight of myself in the mirror.  I felt wonderful in these clothes yesterday, how come they feel restrictive and annoying today?  Just shows how your mood affects all of you.  I was sure that I didn't have any pictures to show you and I did after all.  The sight of the breakfast in a box boosted my mood.

--Barbara