Sometimes beauty is a question of what angle you’re viewing from. I don’t see a mess here; I see my daughter carefully stacking oranges, my son folding napkins into origami, seeds that will fill my garden, peanut butter cookies baked just-because, seasoning that makes things delicious, the table where we have laughed, cried, eaten, and been a family.
So many things can be turned just a little, just enough, to see the beauty. And we could all use a little more loveliness in our lives. I wish you the very best of angles, my friends.
Over and out.
Peach Ramune and a bowl of ramen. This was during the heatwave last week, a most favonian time; what you can’t see is my writing partner grinning at her own bowl of noodles across the table.
It’s a cloudy day. Maybe I should take a book and have lunch out. It’s been an Extremely Productive Week (and, incidentally, an extremely emotionally draining one) and I’m feeling a little run-down.
I wish you something delicious today, my dears.
My favorite mug has survived a bookstore fire, losing its handle, having its handle glued back on, having the glued handle fall back off, and various other mishaps. It still works, though it’s a bit battered, and I plan to use it until it doesn’t.
The fact that it yells “I AM GOING TO HEX YOUR FACE OFF” is just…a bonus. I forget where I saw that particular term–I think it was in a Harry Potter fanfic about Bellatrix (and she’s probably the character who would most likely utter such a thing, unless Molly Weasley got really angry) and it just encapsulates my every feeling before sweet, sweet life-giving caffeine goes down my throat.
I’ve rarely had things stay in my life. The mug has lasted longer than my marriage at this point, and given me quiet steadfastness the last years of said marriage utterly lacked. That’s enough reason to keep it around.
Plus, every time I see its smoke-scarred glaze, I’m reminded that we survive, we endure, and just because a thing is cracked or discolored doesn’t mean it’s not beautiful and worthy and good. The older I get, the more I appreciate the cracked, discolored, and still quietly serviceable.
My other favorite mugs say It’s Motherfucking Tea Time and She Who Must Be Obeyed. I…suppose that says a lot about me, but nothing Readers didn’t already know.
Remember, even if we’re cracked, we’re still useful, beautiful, and worth keeping. Have a good weekend, chickadees.
Yes, your eyes do not deceive you. The Princess brought home a big bag of roasted, unsalted peanuts, and is leaving handfuls on the deck.
For the squirrels.
“Maybe if we’re nice to them the hijinks will stop?” she said, when I raised an eyebrow.
“Oh, my dear sweet springtime child,” I said (for she is), “blackmailers never stop if you give them what they want.”
Time will tell who’s right, but I have a weapon standing ready by the back door.
Just in case.
I have taken to experimenting with my red sauce. This time, after the tomatoes and garlic had enough time to sweat, cook, and reduce, I took out the bay leaves and used a stick blender to puree everything, then added browned meat, mushrooms (raw but rinsed because I wanted all their juiiiiicues and glutamic acids), seasonings, and carrot bits.
Carrots are your friend in tomato sauces. They provide sugar and fiber to soak up the tomatoes’ acidity, buffering what could be a watery, astringent mess. You don’t need to use white sugar if you add chopped-fine or grated carrots, and the result in the finished sauce is ever so subtle but unignorable.
I’ll be using the red sauce to make lasagna in a crock pot today, and I’m looking forward to it. I will not be making the noodles by hand; I do have some limits.
It’s kind of funny, because I hate lasagna…but that’s a story for another day.
Welcome to the weekend, chickadees.
Coming around the corner at the library and being greeted by this fellow made me laugh loud enough that I’m sure a librarian would have shushed me, had any been in range.
Working around happy, reasonable, creative people is so awesome. And yes, I was feeling somewhat nostalgic. Good ol’ Clippy, who used to frustrate the fuck out of me by showing up when I didn’t want him, and being nowhere in sight when I did…
Tomatillos in front, focaccia dough in the back. It’s like a tasty mullet right on my stovetop.
I’m still working on my tomatillo salsa recipe. Lots of trial and error involved. Tasty, tasty trial and error. I hope your weekend is full of good things, dear Readers, and that you enjoy them to the hilt.
I might even do another batch of focaccia. For research purposes, you understand…