Freaky Friday

It is Friday, right? Yeah, it is, I just checked the newspaper. Whew, if it wasn't I'd be late for work. We went to the bank this morning to talk about refinancing our mortgage and talked to the nicest Indian lady (East, not First Nations [I think I like that better than Native American]). We may be able to pay the same and pay it off sooner. Wouldn't that be nice? Now I'm waiting for DS to get off work and come over with our grand-dog, Porter, so we can go to the dog park and let her run. She really wants to run on our walks but my running days are way over. I let her out into her own backyard when we get back and she can run there (it's deep and fenced) but it's not the same as having acres to run in. DS and I will walk along the trails and let her frolic with any available dogs. Good times. It's supposed to be partly sunny today but so far the sun is a no-show. I'm thinking I'll mow this weekend, I wish it'd be the last time but I'm not betting on it. And, of course, I'll visit Mom at least once a day. Tonight's knitting and we've got yummy leftovers--Chicken Mushroom Hash. Don't you wish you were coming over? Durwood makes the best stuff. Last night we had baked swordfish basted with butter and garlic juice and steamed kohlrabi. We've gotten to where we like our veggies steamed with just a bit of butter, salt and pepper, no fancy herbs or sauces, just the fresh, clean taste of the veggies. I could eat a whole plate full right now. What do people who don't like veggies eat?

October 20--Edouard Manet, The Brioche. The house smelled so good, of baking bread and ripe peaches. Michel's mouth watered thinking of the crisp crust of the brioche and the taste of butter, spread and melting, over it. This time of year when all the fruit is ripening in the orchard down behind the shed was his favorite. He'd sit in the shade with the slow buzz of bees and wasps around him and eat. He'd start with peaches; they ripened first. Then came the plums, apples and finally the pears in October when the leaved had already started to turn. The wheat, ground in the mill down by the stream, was grown in the neighborhood and made into brioche by Pascal in his brick oven in the village.

Okay, now I want to bake bread. Too bad I don't have any dough ready in the fridge. Have you even discovered Artisan Bread in 5 Minutes a Day? They have simple recipes for making small boules (round loaves) of bread quickly and easily. DS made wheat cornmeal dough and formed small rolls to go with our soups for last Sunday's supper. I should whip up some dough today so I can bake Sunday. Hasta la vista, babies!
--Barbara

I Am The Sweetest

Durwood says so, I believe him, and I've got the flowers to prove it. See? They were waiting for me when I got home from work last Saturday. It was Sweetest Day, one of those Hallmark holidays, and he gave me a card and the flowers. I think they look perfect in this ugly pitcher I bought years ago at T.J. Maxx. I remember what DD said when I picked it up. "Mom!" she said, as only a 15-year old can. "You're not going to buy that hideous thing, are you?" That clinched it; I had to have it and it has amused and pleased me ever since.

This is the pumpkin cheesecake that DS & DIL1 brought for Sunday supper. It had an absolutely fantabulous graham cracker crust and it was totally delicious.

When Durwood and I ran away from home the other day we went to Appleton and strolled through World Market. I love that place. It's like a vacation without a passport. Everything's a tiny bit exotic and the store smells like foreign places. I bought this sarong to use as a scarf. It was 50% off and I loved the muted colors. I wore it yesterday and felt very swell.

Gales of October

Whoo, it's windy! Naturally it isn't blowing away all the leaves out of our yard. There's also been a bit of drizzley rain to stick them to the grass so they're staying put, darn it. I have to say that the wind livens up the days for me. If they'd just been gray and still I think I'd have been sunk even deeper into a funk, one that even fudge couldn't pull me out of. I am wearing red shoes today to counteract the effects of the weather. I know it seems silly but my red fingernails and red shoes really do perk me up when I'm feeling down. I see them as sort of flipping the world the bird in a semi-ladylike manner. And, of course, my socks never match so there's another "in your face, fashionistas" that I practice every day. I gotta be me. I saw more of the real Mom yesterday and this morning when I stopped at the rehab. She was up and eating a bit of breakfast, refusing pain pills except at bedtime and much more outward looking today. Thank. God. I was so relieved I almost cried. Speaking of red fingernails I need to get them filled and shortened tomorrow. They're so long I'm making even more typos than usual.

October 19--Rene Jules Lalique, Necklace. It was easy to see why the family fought over the swan necklace. It was a breathtaking assemblage of gold, opals, and enamel. Jules had given it to Marceline upon the birth of one of their many children. She wrote to her mother about how the opals flashed their fire and how cold the matal was against her skin. The Art Deco nudes that were a pare to each pendant caused a bit of a scandal. Marceline looked down her nose at the hissing old buffalos, those old ladies with their moth-eaten gowns trailing black lace who gossipped behind their fans, and shut them right up.

I'd love to see that necklace in person, much less be able to wear it. It was breathtaking. And now I think I'll play with glue and stickers for a bit. I love my job.

--Barbara

False Start & Restart

Last Friday I cast on 90 stitches and got started on Aunt B's Potato Chip Scarf while I was visiting Mom. I worked on it at Friday Night Knitting, but it was going fast and going nowhere. What you see is all but the last row of knit front and back and the bind-off. It's not long enough and I don't think it's wide enough. I'm going to frog it and start over. Some of the ones I saw on Ravelry added stitches and rows; I think that's what I'll do.



I frogged my last attempt to make a Special Olympics scarf and put it aside. The other night I pulled it out and started again with bigger needles. Great big needles. US13s. I do love it when it goes fast.








Oh, you should have had supper with us tonight. We had leftover Peking Chiken so Durwood cut it off the bone, heated it up, put it in whole wheat tortillas with hoisin sauce, cucumber spears, and chopped green onions with steamed broccoli on the side. You would have wanted some but we ate it all.

Doo-Dah, Doo-Dah

I feel ready to get back into the race after Durwood bore me off in his chariot last night. Mom left a message while we were gone and sounded a bit more like herself, so I'm encouraged that I haven't lost my sassy Mom just yet. It's dreary and drizzly today so I should have worn red shoes today but I didn't. I'll do better tomorrow. It's funny how off-balance I feel, how distracted I am even though there's nothing tangible I can do to hurry her recovery. Maybe it's just selfishness wanting things to be back to normal, thank you very much. Did I tell you that Skully, Maggie, Porter and I saw a doe on our walk yesterday? We did! She was on a trail across the creek and didn't run away when we first saw each other. I took her picture with my new camera and now I have to figure out how to get it out of there and onto the computer so I can crop it and enlarge it. (That's an image I yoinked off Wikipedia) Porter didn't balk one time on the whole walk and even Henny and Penny pecked at my fingers when I bent down to talk to them when I took Porter home. I must be getting in touch with my pet gene--finally

October18--Callot Soeurs Design House, Dress. You wouldn't expect nuns to make dresses like this but you'd be wrong. This dress is demure and modest and fabulous. Who but a nun would combine an empeccalbe black wool with gold embroidered oranage silk? After all nuns spend most of their time watching a man in a long black robe and rich silk vestments celebrate Mass. Julie smoothed the tunic over her hips enjoying the weight of the fabric and the way it draped. The deep silk cuffs reined in the generous sleeves and the simple neckline was the perfect foil for her new bob. Papa had been scandalized when she came home from having her hair cut but Mama had laughed. "Oh, Georges, a modern girl needs modernn hair, and think of how easy it will be to keep clean." She raised a hand to her own lush auburn hair, a speculative gleam filled her eye, and she removed the pins and let it fall. Papa put an arm around her waist and pulled her into his study. Julie hoped he didn't yell at Mama and hurried to her room so that she wouldn't overhear if he did.

Ah, innocent youth. Gotta work.

--Barbara

Posting In The Dark

I mean to do this in the morning, or at least in the daylight, but my days get away from me more than I care to admit. I hear that the road to Hell is paved with good intentions, so I plan to have a very smooth path to perdition one of these days.


I used yarn as decor on Sunday...











but it couldn't compare to the allure of the appetizer platters Durwood and I fixed for our family supper.






His Italian Wedding Soup was delicious and my Creamy Mushroom Barley Soup was nearly gone. (his recipe makes a lot more than mine does)

In. Sane.

This has not been an easy week for me with Mom having a burst appendix and needing emergency surgery last Tuesday, etc. She was in a lot of pain and also (understandably) down in the dumps about the whole thing. She's good about me having to work 3 days a week, not expecting me to dance constant attendance on her, but she's also (as all we mothers are) excellent at making me feel eleven years old and guilty about not making her better fast. Not on purpose, you understand, but she's sad and hurting and not able to do things, which puts her in "a mood" to snap at those trying to encourage her to, say, walk around more or go to physical therapy so that she won't be "weak as a cat" for long. I think once she's off more of the painkillers and "happy" pills she'll be more herself, at least I hope so. Last night they moved her to the rehab center. So today in the interest of my sanity (and Durwood's too) after walking with Skully and Rainmag (her English Cocker) and Porter the grand-dog, I went for my annual mammo (all's well in the boobage), went to Mom's for clothes to take to the rehab, and when I got home me and the old guy hopped into the Uplander and zoomed off to Appleton to Penzey's spices for curry, thyme & sea salt, then we cruised World Market where I overspent on gifts and a few items for me. We had supper at Outback (cook's night out, Durwood said) where I had a lovely Cobb salad and he a small steak. I even managed to not think about Mom for a few minutes. She'll be better soon,God willin' and the creek don't rise. (Do not ask me where that came from, it just bubbled up from the tar pits of my past.)

October 17--Hubert Robert, The Bathing Pool. The water felt like silk on the skin and wasn't it scandalous to be nude outdoors? Renee had rarely been undressed as far back as she could remember. People just didn't get totally undressed but she couldn't resist the warm water of the bathing pool. It wasn't very deep so the sun warmed it nicely making it just right, not too warm to be refreshing.

I wish you could see my handwriting from last night. It was barely after 10 and I couldn't keep my eyes open. One of these nights I'm gong to get enough sleep.
--Barbara