Monthly Archives: August 2023

Look what I found

Woke to neighbor’s yard crew roaring just below my bedroom window then for hours endured tree work two houses over. Incredibly punishing. Finally put in ear buds and listened to a box fan. Whir, whir, whir. Then I could think and turned to sorting study papers — throwing out old chapter lists, old word count tallies, old email lists. A purge. Then vacuumed. Always feels good.

It is blessedly quiet now.

Dead Northern Flicker and rusted iron disk found within steps of each other on dog walk.

Help with the puzzle yesterday.

I made company another version of the quinoa salad. This one had the same mix of wild and white rice but with barley and fresh corn in lieu of the quinoa. It wasn’t as amazing as the day before but still yummy. Is it because I served the quinoa salad while it was still warm? Maybe.

Already sick to death of Ramaswamy. Why is the press giving him so much air time? The man is a creepy fraud and a lunatic who makes Elon Musk look like a moderate.

Younger son has gone back to college. Starting today. Thoughts and prayers appreciated, especially since they won’t help the most recent victims of Nazi terrorism.

One of Paris Collage Club digital collages for week

Food as ballast

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Food as sanity. Food as pleasure. Food as ballast, continuity, novelty. To prep food is to focus. That’s benefit enough, but there’s also how assembling ingredients performs a kind of magic, a magic that is at once artful and one of the most pedestrian domestic chores going. How is that possible?

Furthermore, because we get hungry over and over again, there’s no scrambling for motivation. It’s built in. How great is that?

This year has found me regularly trying out new recipes. Nothing as disciplined as working through a cookbook, but still . . .

4 garlic cloves, sage, mint, oregano, S&P, EVOO, and lemon juice

Sage and mint from the garden, oregano from the cupboard. I cooked the quinoa with a little saffron. The recipe didn’t call for that but one a few pages later did and I don’t know about you, but I often fudge things that way.

Since I don’t always have some of the more exotic ingredients, I apply a loose standard and that’s fine, since it’s not about perfect replication but rather about stretching my palate and experimenting a little, getting out of my domestic ruts.

For example, this Ottolenghi dish called for Persian dried lime powder and sweet potatoes. I used fresh lime zest for the former and left out the latter. I can see how sweet potato chunks would be a tasty addition, but the salad was PLENTY good without them (see what I did there?)

I gushed over this one in my usual over-the-top way. Oh my god — this one’s restaurant worthy! [Moan] Wow, this is good. Too bad we don’t run a B&B! Served a little bit warm, rice on the toothsome side, the feta adding a luscious creaminess, trust me when I tell you it was outstanding.

A few cherry tomatoes gifted from a friend’s garden added a perfect dash of color and acid, tasting like summer and sunshine.

My husband doesn’t say much (and I guess I gush enough for the both of us), but when he gets up for seconds, his opinion is clear enough.

August ‘23 Haiku

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Only a partial effort for August in the haiku department.

8/1
Near the super moon.
But it’s Christy’s light making
the east wall light up.

8/2
Once read that lies were
the devil’s greatest tool. I
wasn’t sure. Am now.

8/3
Motorcade obscene.
No big crowds. Just reporters.
Sad day? Not at all.

8/4
Dog gacking lately.
In my dream, he spits up one
quilting pin, then two.

8/5
A single yellow
leaf winking on the road speaks
to coming season.

8/6
Rain clip clops through trees,
back pain unspooling at hill’s
crest. What’s for breakfast?

8/7
Who do you choose to
be: a pond dimpled by rain
or the mighty oak?

8/9
We missed the exit.
But the turnpike was quicker.
Now collapse on couch.

8/10
Soaked sphagnum moss like
they said to for orchids but
for too long. It stinks!

August 11
Between the wars. She would have
been ninety today.

Gathering

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In case you want a look back that’ll give you chills and maybe, hope. I who never cry, teared up. I know Biden is old and that can make us wish for different choices, but take a look and remember.

Meanwhile, this is happening in the basement. The closer K gets to retirement, the more house projects he takes on. Last week it was cleaning out all the gutters and oiling the wooden ones. I could hear that distinctive clank of the aluminum ladder being moved for a few days. Then he replaced that bedroom window that spontaneously shattered a while back on a day with a sudden forty degree temperature drop.

Fixed: the ice maker; the washing machine.

I think he’s paving a path.

Also, finding (more) skeletal mouse remains and patching holes in the old foundation.

When he starts organizing (and selling off) the massive coin collection in the cellar, I’ll know we’re close.