Today's Post Is About Food--Mostly

I just thought I'd be up front about the fact that there is no yarn discussed or photographed for today's blog post.  So if you're not interested in food, you may be excused.  (ha!  who doesn't like food?)

One evening this week Durwood said he had something he wanted to say to me.  I'll bet at least three-quarters of you just got the same sick feeling in the pit of your stomach that I got when I heard that.  Putting up a good front, I pasted a smile on my face (at least I hope it looked like that) and sat down.  "What did you want to say?" I said, all cool and calm, all the while wracking my brain wondering if I'd done something thoughtless or stupid or just plain wrong.  He let a little silence go by while he muted the TV.  Uh oh, I thought.  Then he said, "You know I've always felt that pizza isn't real food.  I'm getting tired of having it two nights a week."  I tried not to let my huge sigh of relief blow the papers off the table.  "Of course," I said, "why didn't you mention it sooner?"  So after supper (not pizza) I paged through the binder of proven Weight Watchers recipes, picked out 2 slow cooker ones and 1 skillet one, all of which we had all the ingredients for on hand, to make this weekend.  The Slow-Cooker Chicken Mushroom Brown Rice Casserole makes 8 servings or 4 meals' worth.  The Slow-Cooker Honey-Garlic Chicken Thighs makes 4 servings or 2 meals' worth.  The skillet-made Chicken Pierre makes 6 servings or 3 meals' worth.  I cranked up both slow cookers today so, once I make the skillet meal tomorrow, we'll have 9 nights' worth of suppers in readiness--well, 8 nights' worth actually because we had 2 servings of the Chicken Mushroom etc. stuff tonight.  We're planning to have steamed mussels for supper tomorrow because we try to have some sort of fish or seafood once a week (I suck at remembering that) so the freezer will be loaded with yummy stuff to eat.  I'm thinking I'll whip up a double batch of meatballs too so we can make quick spaghetti suppers.  Besides OJ and LC love meatballs.

While the slow cookers were cooking I sat here hunched over the computer working on the March newsletter for the knitting guild.  I'm sure that soon it'll start to go faster as I'm better at it but I got it pretty much laid out and sent out emails for the things I'm missing so maybe, if I'm lucky, the info will come before I send it out to the membership on Thursday.  Fingers crossed.  Oh, one stupid thing.  I started working by getting the photos I'd taken photoshopped and cropped, looked for the 80-some pictures that MW had taken and lent me his SD card so I could download them and do you think I could find them?  Of course not.  I looked everywhere I thought they could be on this benighted machine but didn't find a trace of them. So I called him and the dear man drove over and handed me the SD card which I had returned to him last night.  He visited with us for a few minutes and then left, promising to come back tomorrow with his impact drill to break up the patio glacier and help me make the outdoors safe for birdfeeder filling again.  As soon as he drove away I put in the USB drive that I've designated for the guild files and guess what's on it.  You're right, the folder with his pictures in it.  Oh, he's going to laugh and laugh tomorrow when I tell him.  I love it when I can make my friends laugh.

February 24--Felix Edouard Vallotton, Martiniquaise.  Her hair framed her face in coal black waves that sprang from the center part like ripples on a midnight sea.  Her dress was the pale yellow of dawn in the spring.  Her dark brown eyes held warmth and compassion.  I watched the sunlight glint off her jet and iridescent shell jewelry as she made her way up from the harbor.  People called out to her, she inclined her regal head toward them but didn't smile or linger to speak.  Every day I had watched her come into town and every day she had walked past the cafe where I sat reading the newspaper.  That morning she stopped when she reached my table, smiled, and said, "May I sit?"

I just looked outside and I think it's raining again.  Good thing tomorrow's Sunday so there won't be droves of school kids and people going to work on once-again icy streets.  This whole freezing rain thing has got to stop.  It's dangerous.  I'm bushed.  Over and out.
--Barbara