Once More

I promise that this is the last time I'll mention Zambaldi Beer and the brewery--for a while anyway.  I corralled a clutch of knitting friends and we met there for a couple hours of knitting and chatting and enjoying the new place.  Imagine my surprise when I saw my baby brother, AJ, and his wife, K.  They sat with us for a while so we got to visit.  It was nice to see them.  




This is what I had at Zambaldi--a cherry vanilla soda (DIL1 makes the syrup herself!), which is so good, and soft pretzels with mustard and cheese.  It wasn't until I was putting my tray in the bus tub that I noticed the little knife for spreading said cheese because that was no cheese dip, it was cheese spread.  I hate when food is smarter than me.  Next time I'll do better.



 

I'm so jealous.  My friend, BB, whose amaryllis is about a week younger than mine sent me an email this morning with a picture of her flower.  Look at it!  It's glorious, big and beautiful and red.  All I've got are seven really tall leaves.  I wish I had a flower.  I think I'll go to ALDI tomorrow where they have $3 hyacinths.  BB already has one, that way I'll have a flower too.

I didn't get very far on the preemie hat I cast on this morning.  Too busy talking and gawking, I guess.


Okay, I have to warn you, this next novel is the very first writing I ever did.  I'd bought a book called "The Weekend Novelist Writes a Mystery" that I thought was about an author writing a mystery but it was a weekend-by-weekend trip through you writing a mystery following their lead.  My manuscript is pretty terrible but it has its moments.

19 January--Barbara Malcolm, Three Cheers for Murder 

Early morning light streamed through the trees as Cecilia Robbins dashed across Second Street.  Cecilia, a short plump woman in her late 40's, wore her dark brown hair short and her brown eyes looked eagerly at life.  Her face wore the expression of someone with news to share.  Ignoring the few cars driving by at that time of the morning she crossed the street and rapped on the door of Kitty’s Korner bookstore.  As the owner, Marlene Brownloe, unlocked the door Cecilia began talking. 

“Marlene!  Wait until you hear what Marge Williamson told me this morning!”  Cecilia drew a steadying breath after her outburst. “You know her husband, Ed, works at the city offices and he told her he’d heard more about that awful murder of Tiffany Davis a couple days ago.  Now, you can’t tell a soul, but I just had to share with someone, and I know you’d never tell.” 

 As she spoke, she followed Marlene back toward the counter noticing that Marlene was still wearing the dark, drab, ill-fitting clothes she’d always worn.  Cecilia resisted the temptation to comment but wished Marlene would take better care of herself.

“What did you hear, Cecilia?” Marlene said as she continued around the counter and sat back down.  She waited for Cecilia to continue, smiling at her friend’s eagerness.

“Ed told Marge that Tiffany was decapitated!  With a machete!  There was blood all over!”  Her voice dropped.  “Can you imagine how Dirk felt when he walked in there?”

Marlene looked at Cecilia, doubt written on her plain face.  “Is that what she said?  Nothing like that was on the TV or in the papers.  How awful if it’s true.”

Cecilia leaned across the high counter.  “Oh, you know they’d never put that kind of thing in the paper.  On TV the police always withhold certain things to trap the murderer.  I wonder how Ed learned all this stuff.  Didn’t you know Tiffany?”

I brought up the last two containers from my last investment cooking weekend in April.  That's a long time, isn't it?  Proof positive that I'm not eating well at all.  Time to marshal some recipes, make a list and spend a few days with the slow cookers cooking and the oven baking.  Maybe I made a list last time that I can just do over... nah.  I should vary it for interest's sake.
--Barbara