Okay. This is for Julia, who loves to cook. This is also for John, who loves bleu cheese dressing, and for Joseph who so graciously asks me for recipes. Thank you my dears. A long time ago, there was a restaurant in Minneapolis which served and sold the best bleu cheese dressing. Today I bought some MAYTAG bleu cheese ($12) and whipped up a pint of dressing. Combine a carton of sour cream, a small jar of mayonnaise and the bleu cheese crumbled. Add a teaspoon of horseradish. That's it. Let it sit for 24 hours to combine flavors. Serve with a crisp salad which contains big chunks of all kinds of fresh veggies and maybe even black olives and walnuts, dried raisins or dried cranberries. You can cut up some grilled chicken or steak as well. Good steak crusted with bleu cheese is to die for. Excuse me, Julia for I know you are (or were) a vegan. Sometimes I add crisp bacon crumbles to the salad. Sometimes I add greek olives. Once in awhile I make a salad and add baby spinach but usually I like to cut up fresh endive or hearts of romaine. Darker lettuces are healthier. I like organic best. A great addition is clementine chunks (mandarin oranges). Sometimes I cook up some black quinoa and sprinkle that in. I suppose the list is endless.
Here's something to eat with the salad.
Today I saw a television chef put four eggs in a skillet, cook them a bit and add a bunch of cooked spaghetti. He tossed that until the egg was coating the spaghetti and was cooked, then sprinkled it liberally with grated parmesan. Yum. Protein and carbs with cheese! A little oregano might have been fitting. A nice baguette and a glass of wine and dinner would have been complete.
Enjoy
Wednesday, January 26, 2011
Saturday, January 22, 2011
Make Something Of It
Yesterday I knew spring was in the air. I had a sudden urge to make a sundress. Some things we cannot control, but we can prepare. My brother John graciously agreed to go with me to a small quilt shop to find fabric. There we learned that fabric in quilt shops comes in 108" bolts rather than 36" or 45". This was great because this little sundress has no seam down the front. The fabric is cotton but looks like batik. It's simple and beautiful. The dress pattern has a flow that will make wearing it that much more fun. Even though my machine is packed away somewhere in a box in the garage, I can stitch this by hand as my great grandmother did when she made dresses years ago in Scotland. Everything was made by hand. There's not much else to do in January/February. Of course John is planning the next phase of the flower gardens. He tends to the birds and educates me about the species which show up in our front yard. To digress, we had 3 varieties of woodpeckers, cardinals and nuthatches yesterday, all feeding at the same time. John is determined to make sure they are all healthy through the winter. He's a sort of St Francis of Westcott. Below you will see the material and dress pattern. You can imagine what I will be doing this snowy Saturday.
Sunday, January 16, 2011
All In A Day's Hunt and Gather
The owner, who gave off an aroma of cigar and cold weather, brought in full boxes of treasure gathered from an old house. There I found a silver chest full of beautiful sterling silver. It was a full service for 8 in a gorgeous Westmoreland pattern. I counted the pieces which included several serving pieces. I asked "how much?" The gentleman was sorry to tell me someone was coming to weigh the silver and it would probably be worth $500. I waited as the little old man in the big coat weighed the lot. While I waited I found a set of small canisters which you see above. They are large, clean and charming. You see them now perched on my kitchen stove. Soon the owner located me to give me the bad news. Bad news is actually an understatement. The silver buyer weighed the sterling and offered $1,400 for the lot. He will melt it down for the silver. He's a survivalist who believes silver will buy him bread (or a ticket out of this country) when the world falls apart. Maybe he sells it to terrorists to fund the take over of America. I don't know, but I didn't like what I was hearing. A grandmother's precious silver heirloom, over a hundred years old, was being melted into a bar? That's our culture, our heritage! I could never have afforded $1,400 but still. ..............sigh*
Wednesday, January 12, 2011
Too Much Rhetoric
News headlines surface. In the early morning my mind tries to make sense of what I have heard, seen and read. Other bits of information line up in this formation of images and words to complete some sort of "big picture". Skewed by some political opinion, only a small portion of what I hear or read in the news is true. A long time ago, I was told that newspapers are written at a 5th grade reading level. That tells me something about the intellect of the general population. It also tells me that the news is a great format for propaganda. Each political party has an open agenda which they make known to all of us, and a hidden agenda which floats like the better part of an iceberg just below the surface. Every political message is rhetoric with intent to sell us some idea. It is empty, superficial and showy, meant only to seduce voters into voting for some person who may or may not have the constituents' best interest in mind. Mostly, it seems that politicians have their own interest in mind.
One headline wonders if students should be allowed to carry guns to school. Another, more scientific article explains that the human brain is not fully mature until age 25. That reminds me; young soldiers going off to war are often 18 or 19 years old. Another headline tells us that North Korea will have the capability to launch a nuclear missile with capability to land on American soil within five years. We are concerned about handguns? It's easy to understand why people feel unsafe. There is a general sense of chaos in the air. Today politicians are focused on the handguns. Of course they do not mention North Korea. That's just a bit too scary. They don't mention China either with it's massive machine made up of sweat shops full of children who manufacture our clothing and almost everything else we blindly purchase. Who cares? If we can own handguns, maybe we can protect ourselves against what?
When are the nations leaders going to focus on something besides political gain and realize that a "house divided cannot stand" The rich will protect greed and the poor will be caught up, out of ignorance, in protecting the rich. If the wealthy politicians were interested in taking care of the country, they would not ship jobs overseas. If the rich were interested in the general health of our children they would not rage against healthcare for all. In fact, if the politicians, who are the rich, were aware of their own mortality, they would fight to take care of the children, the elderly and the poor worldwide. No matter. As long as the issue is greed and division, we are doomed. As a friend of mine used to say, "when you stick your head in the sand, everybody can see what your ass is up to". The world is watching.
When it is all said and done we have tucked away the one guide book which we need to be reading. That book predicts our times and times to come. The picture is not hopeful unless the entire country takes a look at it's own need to repent and changes direction. I am not hopeful about that. We are all sheep. The politicians are counting on that.
One headline wonders if students should be allowed to carry guns to school. Another, more scientific article explains that the human brain is not fully mature until age 25. That reminds me; young soldiers going off to war are often 18 or 19 years old. Another headline tells us that North Korea will have the capability to launch a nuclear missile with capability to land on American soil within five years. We are concerned about handguns? It's easy to understand why people feel unsafe. There is a general sense of chaos in the air. Today politicians are focused on the handguns. Of course they do not mention North Korea. That's just a bit too scary. They don't mention China either with it's massive machine made up of sweat shops full of children who manufacture our clothing and almost everything else we blindly purchase. Who cares? If we can own handguns, maybe we can protect ourselves against what?
When are the nations leaders going to focus on something besides political gain and realize that a "house divided cannot stand" The rich will protect greed and the poor will be caught up, out of ignorance, in protecting the rich. If the wealthy politicians were interested in taking care of the country, they would not ship jobs overseas. If the rich were interested in the general health of our children they would not rage against healthcare for all. In fact, if the politicians, who are the rich, were aware of their own mortality, they would fight to take care of the children, the elderly and the poor worldwide. No matter. As long as the issue is greed and division, we are doomed. As a friend of mine used to say, "when you stick your head in the sand, everybody can see what your ass is up to". The world is watching.
When it is all said and done we have tucked away the one guide book which we need to be reading. That book predicts our times and times to come. The picture is not hopeful unless the entire country takes a look at it's own need to repent and changes direction. I am not hopeful about that. We are all sheep. The politicians are counting on that.
Monday, January 10, 2011
When Bad Things Happen
A Congresswoman was shot through the brain. It happened while she was meeting her public in the parking lot of a grocery store. Others were shot and killed. Not one of them had done anything to deserve such a fate. The boy who shot them was obviously mentally ill. He was apparently able to purchase a gun because he had never misused one before. He left clues all over the internet that indicated his thoughts were not rational. His behavior in school had frightened classmates who were afraid he might come into the school as a shooter. He was, as they say, a ticking time bomb. What could have been done to avoid this tragedy?
I'm not sure why Mrs. Gifford did not have official bodyguards. There is security for some but not for others? That must be how it works. The shooter was not tagged by anybody in law enforcement as dangerous. He was seen as a nuisance but not a danger to self or others. Because we are a country based on individual freedom, that boy was able to say and do odd, frightening, threatening things without being committed to a mental institution. Did he not have a diagnosis of paranoid schizophrenia? Was there not someone in his family who was willing to step forward and get a commitment in place to take him off of the street until he was stable? I know families are afraid to press these commitments because we are not usually objective about those we love. There have been countless families killed by children who could have been treated by professionals. If only someone would have spoken up. I am aware, however, that it is very difficult to hold anybody with a mental illness for any length of time. Local mental health centers are supposed to pick up the responsibility for those who have been hospitalized for mental illness. This does not mean the mentally ill person is forced to comply with medication or treatment. There is not enough money, in my opinion, allocated to care for the mentally ill. In a way, we remain in the dark ages when it comes to mental illness. Paranoid Schizophrenia can obviously be a dangerous diagnosis unless treated correctly.
Individual freedom stops when it comes nose to nose with another's right to safety. This mentally ill, threatening, unstable man was able to purchase a weapon. We seem to like our right to bear arms. I don't argue that Constitutional right either. I do wonder if there is not a better way to manage the purchase of firearms. Should every gun purchase be entered into a local law enforcement data base? If law enforcement had a data base with the shooter's name listed as someone who MAY be a threat, and if they had a list of those who have purchased a weapon, perhaps the local law enforcement would have been aware and on guard before the tragedy struck. Actually, who in our country NEEDS a gun of the sort the shooter purchased? Either we all need them, or no one needs them.
Perhaps this event will trigger some new consideration about gun control. Perhaps we will include the elements of this tragedy in our homeland security discussions. If we do not, we can expect future events. There is no way to completely eliminate such tragedies, but for the sake of those who died or were injured, we must take another look at ourselves and our values. I pray for the safety of my children and grandchildren. I'm sure the victims of this tragedy prayed for safety for their children. No matter what else happens, for everyones' sake we must learn something valuable from this and change the way we do business.
I'm not sure why Mrs. Gifford did not have official bodyguards. There is security for some but not for others? That must be how it works. The shooter was not tagged by anybody in law enforcement as dangerous. He was seen as a nuisance but not a danger to self or others. Because we are a country based on individual freedom, that boy was able to say and do odd, frightening, threatening things without being committed to a mental institution. Did he not have a diagnosis of paranoid schizophrenia? Was there not someone in his family who was willing to step forward and get a commitment in place to take him off of the street until he was stable? I know families are afraid to press these commitments because we are not usually objective about those we love. There have been countless families killed by children who could have been treated by professionals. If only someone would have spoken up. I am aware, however, that it is very difficult to hold anybody with a mental illness for any length of time. Local mental health centers are supposed to pick up the responsibility for those who have been hospitalized for mental illness. This does not mean the mentally ill person is forced to comply with medication or treatment. There is not enough money, in my opinion, allocated to care for the mentally ill. In a way, we remain in the dark ages when it comes to mental illness. Paranoid Schizophrenia can obviously be a dangerous diagnosis unless treated correctly.
Individual freedom stops when it comes nose to nose with another's right to safety. This mentally ill, threatening, unstable man was able to purchase a weapon. We seem to like our right to bear arms. I don't argue that Constitutional right either. I do wonder if there is not a better way to manage the purchase of firearms. Should every gun purchase be entered into a local law enforcement data base? If law enforcement had a data base with the shooter's name listed as someone who MAY be a threat, and if they had a list of those who have purchased a weapon, perhaps the local law enforcement would have been aware and on guard before the tragedy struck. Actually, who in our country NEEDS a gun of the sort the shooter purchased? Either we all need them, or no one needs them.
Perhaps this event will trigger some new consideration about gun control. Perhaps we will include the elements of this tragedy in our homeland security discussions. If we do not, we can expect future events. There is no way to completely eliminate such tragedies, but for the sake of those who died or were injured, we must take another look at ourselves and our values. I pray for the safety of my children and grandchildren. I'm sure the victims of this tragedy prayed for safety for their children. No matter what else happens, for everyones' sake we must learn something valuable from this and change the way we do business.
Saturday, January 8, 2011
Home Should Be A Beautiful Place
Last night I was sitting with my brother John, enjoying the quiet time after dinner. We had gone on a 'hunt and gather' at the Goodwill, where I found a book of readings. There on the first page, I found a quote which caught my eye. "I have a sense of these buried lives striving to come out through me to express themselves." That may be interpreted in several different ways, of course. For me it struck a special chord because my career is so very different from the career hiding under the surface. Like a daffodil ready to poke it's head out of the soil, I feel the energy of an entirely different career waiting to emerge. I never discount urgings like this. Somewhere inside of me there is a designer who longs to create space. Inside or outside, it does not matter. Whether a garden or a home, my heart beats faster and with great excitement when I have even the smallest chance to bring beauty into my own environment.
As a child my home was the antithesis of beauty. The physical environment became the reflection of the alcoholism which poisoned my stepfather's life. In the beginning he purchased a property with many beautiful trees, flowering bushes and plants around a large old house. The place was full of possibilities with it's bridal wreath, tulips, lilies, orange blossom bushes, lilac, snowball bushes and cedar trees. The house was large enough to accommodate the 11 family members living there as it was built to be a hotel near a train depot. It was easy to see what he envisioned. Alcohol, however, ate away at the dream and the reality. Nothing was ever cleaned. He painted the ceilings dark blue and dark green "to hide the dirt". What insanity! Why not paint the ceilings white and clean them once in awhile. Nothing was ever thrown away but there were no dressers or closets or cupboards to store things. Cardboard boxes full of dead grandparents' belongings clogged the stairwell and the rooms. There was no inside bathroom, but a filthy pail in the corner. A single lightbulb hung from the ceiling in the kitchen. Grime on woodwork became saturated with tar from cigarette smoke. The smell of old beer and urine was suffocating in the summer. The only smell of "clean" that I remember was Lysol, which my mother used to try to disinfect the place when the kids developed impetigo. We bathed only occasionally in a galvanized tin tub with water dipped from a copper boiler on the greasy stove. We lived in filthy chaos. There was no privacy anywhere. Because of his demand for full attention there was little opportunity for my mother to focus on the demands of house keeping or home making.
The beginning of my desire to create beauty may have come when I was very young. Though modest, my mother's parents furnished their home with only the finest things. The smell I remember was lemon oil and wax. There was no dirt anywhere but in the 'mud room'. Clean windows allowed sunshine to flood rooms furnished with beautiful highly polished cherry wood furniture. My grandparents had a bathroom with a tub. Even today, I am grateful for clean linens and a place to take a bath. Grandmother grew the most fragrant roses. In her bedroom she tucked handmade sachets of home grown lavender. Her delicious lemon curd was a reminder of her Celtic roots. Grandfather even wore a white shirt with his bib overalls. He was a hard working, sober cattle farmer who built a round barn used to auction prize cattle. The barn became a metaphor. Built of iron oak, it is so strong, the fourth generation grandson could not raze it. Iron oak becomes stronger with age. Instead of tearing it down, the barn was sided with clean white siding and left to stand as a symbol of it's own integrity and of the farm's history.
Today, some 50 years (and several beautifully designed homes) later, I find myself looking at French dinnerware online, thinking of creating a romantic floral table setting. On an long primitive wooden table; set outside in the garden under a pergola, friends will eat a delicious meal under vines of wisteria. As a child I ate on chipped enamel plates with filthy silverware, sometimes tarnished green. I remember kids taking metal plates outside to share with the dog. The lack of beauty either kills the spirit or inspires the heart and mind to move in a beautiful direction. No wonder there is a budding of that desire to create harmony and joy. Today I will take time to clean my kitchen before I go off to seek inspiration. Keeping things in order and clean is the first step. Getting rid of excess unused 'stuff' is another first step. Beyond that, it is only a matter of looking around at the beauty God has provided. In looking, one can find every conceivable color and texture needed to bring a home to life. The winter is long but spring will be here soon. What nudges forth will see my dreams take shape once again. Perhaps in time I will be able to help others understand how to realize their own fair dreams of beauty. Perhaps this will become a career. What a joyful thought!
As a child my home was the antithesis of beauty. The physical environment became the reflection of the alcoholism which poisoned my stepfather's life. In the beginning he purchased a property with many beautiful trees, flowering bushes and plants around a large old house. The place was full of possibilities with it's bridal wreath, tulips, lilies, orange blossom bushes, lilac, snowball bushes and cedar trees. The house was large enough to accommodate the 11 family members living there as it was built to be a hotel near a train depot. It was easy to see what he envisioned. Alcohol, however, ate away at the dream and the reality. Nothing was ever cleaned. He painted the ceilings dark blue and dark green "to hide the dirt". What insanity! Why not paint the ceilings white and clean them once in awhile. Nothing was ever thrown away but there were no dressers or closets or cupboards to store things. Cardboard boxes full of dead grandparents' belongings clogged the stairwell and the rooms. There was no inside bathroom, but a filthy pail in the corner. A single lightbulb hung from the ceiling in the kitchen. Grime on woodwork became saturated with tar from cigarette smoke. The smell of old beer and urine was suffocating in the summer. The only smell of "clean" that I remember was Lysol, which my mother used to try to disinfect the place when the kids developed impetigo. We bathed only occasionally in a galvanized tin tub with water dipped from a copper boiler on the greasy stove. We lived in filthy chaos. There was no privacy anywhere. Because of his demand for full attention there was little opportunity for my mother to focus on the demands of house keeping or home making.
The beginning of my desire to create beauty may have come when I was very young. Though modest, my mother's parents furnished their home with only the finest things. The smell I remember was lemon oil and wax. There was no dirt anywhere but in the 'mud room'. Clean windows allowed sunshine to flood rooms furnished with beautiful highly polished cherry wood furniture. My grandparents had a bathroom with a tub. Even today, I am grateful for clean linens and a place to take a bath. Grandmother grew the most fragrant roses. In her bedroom she tucked handmade sachets of home grown lavender. Her delicious lemon curd was a reminder of her Celtic roots. Grandfather even wore a white shirt with his bib overalls. He was a hard working, sober cattle farmer who built a round barn used to auction prize cattle. The barn became a metaphor. Built of iron oak, it is so strong, the fourth generation grandson could not raze it. Iron oak becomes stronger with age. Instead of tearing it down, the barn was sided with clean white siding and left to stand as a symbol of it's own integrity and of the farm's history.
Today, some 50 years (and several beautifully designed homes) later, I find myself looking at French dinnerware online, thinking of creating a romantic floral table setting. On an long primitive wooden table; set outside in the garden under a pergola, friends will eat a delicious meal under vines of wisteria. As a child I ate on chipped enamel plates with filthy silverware, sometimes tarnished green. I remember kids taking metal plates outside to share with the dog. The lack of beauty either kills the spirit or inspires the heart and mind to move in a beautiful direction. No wonder there is a budding of that desire to create harmony and joy. Today I will take time to clean my kitchen before I go off to seek inspiration. Keeping things in order and clean is the first step. Getting rid of excess unused 'stuff' is another first step. Beyond that, it is only a matter of looking around at the beauty God has provided. In looking, one can find every conceivable color and texture needed to bring a home to life. The winter is long but spring will be here soon. What nudges forth will see my dreams take shape once again. Perhaps in time I will be able to help others understand how to realize their own fair dreams of beauty. Perhaps this will become a career. What a joyful thought!
Monday, January 3, 2011
Daily Miracles
If I had blogged last year or the year before, you would have read many "Daily Miracle" entries. It's the beginning of 2011 and the Lord God did not wait long to make his presence known to me. Since coming to Sioux City, I have wondered how to find a Church home without "shopping" too much. The biggest Churches are not necessarily the best. Small congregations are, in my opinion, either new, which is not necessarily bad, or they are not growing. My standard has long been Orchard Hill Church in Cedar Falls, Iowa, where my children were raised by a staff that did not change every three years. The mission statement is this; Orchard Hill exists to help people become fully devoted followers of Christ. The website is www.orchardhillchurch.org. You can look for yourself. Even after I moved from Cedar Falls, I was able to stay connected in meaningful ways.
On Sunday morning I decided to try a Church in Sioux City. For a long time I've noticed Sunnybrook Community Church though I was not sure why Sunnybrook would be calling my name. Being cautious I checked out the website www.sunnybrookchurch.org There was something familiar in the podcast. We can never go back or recreate our best experiences but having confidence that God's Holy Spirit would either bless or give me a big "Nope", I drove over to Sunnybrook. Even the physical structure looked familiar. The message really caught my attention. The Youth Pastor spoke about the importance of "small groups". Voila! I hoped to find a Church with small groups. After the service I stopped by the information desk to sign up for a senior small group. I mentioned to the friendly lady behind the desk that I am new in the community and that my home Church was in Cedar Falls. She asked " Orchard Hill?" WOW! Yes! She smiled and told me that Doug Tenson, now a Pastor at Orchard Hill used to be the Youth Pastor at Sunnybrook. There it was. The affirmation I needed. No wonder I felt so comfortable.
No Church shopping necessary. Although no Church is "perfect", being made up of human beings, I have found a place where I will be able to share in a faith community, find a small group and become involved in the "work" of the Church. Daily Miracle #1, 2011 "Thanks, Lord. Thank you very much. I am blessed".
On Sunday morning I decided to try a Church in Sioux City. For a long time I've noticed Sunnybrook Community Church though I was not sure why Sunnybrook would be calling my name. Being cautious I checked out the website www.sunnybrookchurch.org There was something familiar in the podcast. We can never go back or recreate our best experiences but having confidence that God's Holy Spirit would either bless or give me a big "Nope", I drove over to Sunnybrook. Even the physical structure looked familiar. The message really caught my attention. The Youth Pastor spoke about the importance of "small groups". Voila! I hoped to find a Church with small groups. After the service I stopped by the information desk to sign up for a senior small group. I mentioned to the friendly lady behind the desk that I am new in the community and that my home Church was in Cedar Falls. She asked " Orchard Hill?" WOW! Yes! She smiled and told me that Doug Tenson, now a Pastor at Orchard Hill used to be the Youth Pastor at Sunnybrook. There it was. The affirmation I needed. No wonder I felt so comfortable.
No Church shopping necessary. Although no Church is "perfect", being made up of human beings, I have found a place where I will be able to share in a faith community, find a small group and become involved in the "work" of the Church. Daily Miracle #1, 2011 "Thanks, Lord. Thank you very much. I am blessed".
Sunday, January 2, 2011
Christmas tree, Oh Christmas tree
When I was a child, we were very poor. We, like all children, wanted a Christmas tree in the middle of our living room. I remember more than once begging the teacher for the tree which adorned our classroom. With coats open and hair flying in the wind, we dragged that pathetic thing the mile through the snow to our house. The chain of construction paper circles bounced along on the ground behind us. Needles and tinsel left a trail. No matter. It was a fabulous green piney smelling Christmas tree. It was ours! At home we usually had a string of lights; the big old fashioned ones. When those lights were turned on at dusk and the children saw it for the first time, that tree was as magical as any in the finest home.
As an adult, I have created some of the most fabulous trees. Once I made a small forest of four trees all decorated in different styles, set in the middle of the great room. It's still all about that child inside of me who did not have enough magic. This year I set up one tall skinny pencil tree. On the porch, the neighbors could see it all the way down the block. I really did that for the two little boys who live across the street. They believe in magic. It was lovely. Deconstructing the tree is not nearly as much fun as putting it together, but it must be done. I know. Some people leave theirs up all year, but how can one prepare for spring with a Christmas tree on the porch? As the ornaments came down, one by one, I thought about their origin. When Joe was here at Christmas, I showed him a small ornament given to his father and I by his grandmother on our first Christmas. That was 30 years ago. A tiny couple stand together with our first names on a tiny gold plaque at the base. I've saved it and cherished it for him these 30 years. Orlynn Anderson knew how to make Christmas special. She once tucked $100 bills in the folded hands of angels on the mantle; one for each child. She taught me how to decorate a house, prepare a Christmas feast, set a lovely table and nab all the good ornaments on the day after Christmas sale. When she died of ALS, I felt as though my own mother had died. She was a fine home maker and a very good mother. Joe looked at the ornament and shrugged. "Ya, so?" His father and I have been divorced for many years. I tucked that away once more, knowing that even though he may never appreciate it, his children will. Divorce does not mean one stops loving the other or forgets the cherished memories. It is sad. Bittersweet.
Saturday, January 1, 2011
New Year's Day Sober
What a wonderful thing, sobriety. Oh, it's not that I always believed that, but there came a day when the ugly hangover became so vivid, I chose not to drink the poison in the first place. While the world was partying, I was in bed by 9 pm with a warm quilt up to my nose. Emma, the kitten, was tucked neatly in the curve of my body. I thought if anything of great consequence happened in the world at midnight; if terrorists shot down the crystal ball and blew up Time's Square, I would face it in the morning. Then I remembered they too would be celebrating somewhere in a far country. We're not the only ones with fireworks and champagne. The whole world turned a page last night.
Today was domestic. I baked the most incredible oatmeal raisin cookies and made a pot of chili loaded with bits of onion, celery and green pepper. Now I'm full. Just the cooking does that to me. While out searching for white raisins for the cookies, I purchased a novel by Ken Follett. Fall Of Giants will probably keep me occupied for the night. Pillars Of The Earth was incredible. World Without End which followed years later as a sequel, was even better. Tonight I will leave the television (hypnosis in a box) and read. Tomorrow will be a good day to deconstruct the Christmas tree.
Today was domestic. I baked the most incredible oatmeal raisin cookies and made a pot of chili loaded with bits of onion, celery and green pepper. Now I'm full. Just the cooking does that to me. While out searching for white raisins for the cookies, I purchased a novel by Ken Follett. Fall Of Giants will probably keep me occupied for the night. Pillars Of The Earth was incredible. World Without End which followed years later as a sequel, was even better. Tonight I will leave the television (hypnosis in a box) and read. Tomorrow will be a good day to deconstruct the Christmas tree.
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