Quick Bread

What does one do with a big can of pumpkin that's nearing its death date?  Why one mixes up a double batch of pumpkin bread with raisins and chopped nuts, of course.  Some to eat, some to freeze, and some to share--because we're nice like that.  Our house smells so good I almost don't want to cook anything else today so the aroma of pumpkin and spices isn't overshadowed.  Almost.  There're some leftovers that are teetering on the brink so we'll "pick $hit with the chickens" as Mom used to say, for supper tonight.  Tomorrow Durwood's got big plans for a new recipe for crockpot chicken he wants to make.  (I went to the grocery for the ingredients today so he'll have everything at hand so I can loll around tomorrow because I sure didn't loll yesterday or today.)  I'm really anxious to try it, it looks deeeelicious.

I made good progress on the sleeves of the Red Marl sweater last night, got the cuffs to 4" and then shifted into stockinette while at the same time increasing every 4 rows--and I only forgot to drop one ball of yarn and pick up the other when I shifted sleeves ONCE.  I was finishing the first stitch on the next cuff with the previous cuff's working yarn when I realized that I was beginning to knit yarn handcuffs and fixed that stitch right away.  Whew.  That was a close one.  Too much talking and laughing plays hell with my concentration.  I even shushed everyone for a minute or two while I read and reread a line of instruction.  I've been knitting on this darned sweater for so many years and I'm so determined to finish it this year I don't want to make mistakes, at least not big ones that are hard or time-consuming to fix.

I was talking about my little squills blooming and the gardeners at the table were unfamiliar with them so I searched them on the web on my Kindle and found that they're also called scilla.  I know that these all blue ones were from GramMary's backyard but I think the white-with-blue-stripes ones were bonus bulbs with a big bulb order from Michigan Bulb Co. or someone like that.  They're so tiny, so short-lived, but so pretty and delicate.  I love 'em.

April 18--Jack McConnell, Executive Kisses Pig.

Pucker up, Porky,
time to kiss the boss.
Kiss your way up the ladder.
Kiss for a raise.
Kiss because you like kissing...
ham.
In the 70's cops were pigs,
nobody loved them--
except their moms.
I thought executives were
fat cats,
when did they get promoted
to pigs?
~~~~~

It was a definite challenge to write a poem about a man in a suit puckering up to kiss a great big ol' boar, but I think I managed admirably.  I think I'll swap my winter socks for my summer socks today.  Don't want to rush into anything, besides it's supposed to get downright chilly later in the week.  I will be covering my tender herbs at bedtime, yes I will.
--Barbara