Song

 

This is for AC, and any one else who wants to listen. He had posted on Granny Sue's blog he didn't know John Price. This is a sad favorite of mine.

John Prine died from Covid.

John Prine

What Day Is It?

The same day as every day. 

Cats Day!

It seems obvious which cat hangs out with the two-legged critters.

She shows up when she wants to.

The first braise of the season. I'm out of carrots so the color is bland but the taste was not. A chuck roast and the last sweet corn of the season. We had a first and a last.

We will reach nearly 90 F/32 C today. The cities will likely reach 90. In October. In Minnesota.  I'll say no more. 

Happy Saturday. I mean Caturday.

 

'Tis the Season

Not that season.

It's the season when plants start coming into the house for the winter. After this horrible summer all I can say is, winter, bring it on. But not too on, okay? Okay.

Our weather has been mild. I have not turned the furnace on yet, very welcome for the winter finances. It's expensive, all this being great again.

As I put the period to the prior sentence the power went out. It came on again early afternoon but I didn't get back to this. So, a day later. Yesterday was sunny and 75 F/24-ish C, today cloudy and cooler. 

I got some laughter yesterday when talking to a friend. She has a tiny tortie who has a huge personality and a booming voice. After what Cora obviously found long enough without her human's full attention I was treated to the loud yowling of an insulted cat. She would not stop. I finally told my friend Cora was telling her to hang up the damn phone and put her attention where it belonged. So she did. I have always thought of Bette Midler when  I think of Cora. 

We had another meal from leftovers, chicken this time. There is still enough to use in soup or with pasta. Cutting Mark back to eating for two instead of three has been profitable. 

 

Just Stuff

Do you, like me, see a barrage of articles telling us how we should dress, what is in and what is out and what is in for home decor, lots about kitchens. Which is what leads me to this photo. I have a friend thirty years younger than I am. I've known her for twenty years. Last week she sent me a photo of her kitchen, where she had put in an open cabinet for pantry supplies she uses often.

We were talking on the phone and she asked me if it looked tacky because she has read, heard, this design advice often. Her siblings live by it. My response was; it's your home, you live in it in the way that you like and that works for you. I don't care to be a minimalist. I don't care if a wall color is now considered passé, if I have my counters filled with what I use daily or at least often. I use my kitchen. I live in my house. I like my office walls covered in photos and plaques. 

All this to say to her quit worrying about what we are told to do by some obscure person and just live in your own home as you like. There are plenty of things we have in our lives which are often beyond our control. This is not one of them. 

Okay, got that off my chest. Still cooking, I can do that. Remember the saying "cooking with gas"? Indicating you are doing well? I am literally cooking with gas and doing as well as possible.

Thank you all for your kindness concerning my continuing pain complaint. I do appreciate each and all.

*Blogger is insisting the middle paragraph be in large print. I concede.

Paying the Piper

It's been a flurry of medical appointments and procedures. It's got me a bit down at the moment. I start nerve ablation on my neck in the next week or two. I've had to have several procedures in advance to satisfy insurance. I'm probably going to be inconsistent for a while, this is wearing. A life time of mares, foals and stallions has shown up in my back and neck. My old grey mare is nickering with humor, who's the old grey mare now? 

A repair person was supposed to be here on Monday but wasn't. I have an appointment with a different company tomorrow. It stops feeding the pellets after it's been on a while and in this large room it is a valued source of supplementary heat.

I made a quick sauce and Italian sausage meatballs for an easy dinner. The meatballs will be today's lunch on ciabatta rolls. I love fall/winter for so many reasons and the food is one of those reasons. 

So, just once again to let you know, I will be absent more than present. I'm in pain, odd how it often is worse before it's better, and simply mentally worn. I will be back to my cheerfully grumpy self after they stop sticking needles into my nerves.

I've had to resort to putting videos on YouTube to post here. No matter which browser I use they won't post. All my troubles should be so small.

It's Autumn

I lit my first fire of the season yesterday. We were in the 50s F with rain all day. It felt good on these old bones.

These little fur balls agreed.

It's another dreary day although slightly warmer than yesterday. The equines are out enjoying the remaining grass in their pastures. I'm enjoying my coffee and all is well.

This little guy is not Gatto. This is Tabby. There must be some quirk in the brain of an orange cat, you want to lay on paper?

Good Sunday to you all.

 

True

 Right?

Mark often tells me about one person or another when he's out and about who holds up a line or some such thing, that it was an old guy. Almost every time it is followed by "I think I am older than him". I spent most of my 20s studying and working in geriatrics. A common theme amongst the people was that inside they were not old. 

It's part of the human condition, and not a bad part, I think. We, hopefully, gain wisdom and discretion as we age, but aren't we still 'us'? I still walk through the house breaking into song. I like to sing. I can't dance anymore but that doesn't stop me from making some ridiculous moves to music. I still groan at bad jokes as well as make them myself. I am me with more temperance. 

Calculation

Sizing up the risk.

What do you think old two-legger? 

Hmmmm, maybe.

She hissed. 

I'll just lay my chunk down here while she hisses.

I think I'll stay here.

Yes, this is my life.

 

Good Monday Morning

Still trying to get used to it.

I have another little something I should have posted Saturday regarding my sometimes loquacious child. When he was in second grade he came home from school beaming with pride. His teacher had asked them to write a poem about their mothers. My outside-the-box boy wrote "My mother is so very thin, that's cuz she drinks a lot of gin." Yep. I told him that it was very good, then went to stand in a corner for a while. That same year he decided to discuss the concept of infinity with me. Where he got that, I have no idea. What I did know is that I was in trouble. How he ended up in a professional kitchen is, well, got me.

Now the normal mundanity of life. Monday = laundry, so as I sit in my office typing I have the whirring of laundry equipment providing background sound. It does drown out the morning news Mark listens to in the kitchen. That's fine by me.

I made a pizza on Saturday. It's been some time since I had and the stuff was on hand so why not? Prosciutto, fennel, garlic (of course), spinach and mozzarella.

My pizza doesn't photograph well but fortunately it tastes quite good. So thinks us. 

Since little is happening around here I guess I'll post another food. I am not very good with casseroles. I do just fine with a lasagna, but otherwise, no. They taste good, usually, but they always look like someone flung stuff on a plate. I had a package of very thin asparagus. When you do a pick-up order the shopper isn't going to skip the asparagus because it's skinny. It became a casserole with salmon. It was good, so that is the important part.

It's chilly and overcast, which is just fine. I think I can take the fan off my desk and replace it with the heater. How quickly the weather changed. As you can read, I'm in a rambling on mood so I think it's best I just publish this now before I write a book. Ciao.

My Unusual Child

My son, the budding writer.

Matthew wrote this when he was about ten. Tillie was our Bulldog and Delicate Lady Tillie was her registered name. Matthew was around four when I bought her. A year or so later I bought Fallon, a four month old Afghan Hound. Do not buy a four month old Afghan Hound. Don't. He wrote one about Fallon, too, but I seem to have lost it. I found this as I was rummaging through papers. I think he probably took after his mother.