Another foggy day. I stayed busy hauling out Christmas stuff and putting away Fall decor. And sitting with a heating pad on and off. I have to baby my dratted back.

 We won't get our tree till this weekend. By Monday we should be in full regalia.

 

Pico de Gallo and True Lime

                                                             

Beans and rice appear on our table with some regularity. Sometimes it's quinoa or barley or brown rice, but when I'm in a hurry, it's basmati rice which is done in about 15 minutes. The beans are generally out of a can, sometimes black beans or garbanzos, sometimes one of the various field peas.

Sometimes I cut up corn tortillas and fry them for accompanying chips.

                                                 And if I have a fresh jalapeno in the house, I make pico de gallo to top the beans and rice. It's simple and delicious (any leftover goes on scrambled eggs in the morning.) You just chop up one onion, two tomatoes, and one jalapeno. Add a quarter teaspoon of salt and some lime juice--or a couple envelopes of True Lime, which is powdered lime and is an amazingly good substitute for fresh lime. (Limes are awfully expensive these days, probably due to tariffs.) Fresh cilantro is a traditional ingredient, but as John is genetically disposed to find cilantro tasting of soap, I leave it out. 

It's a cheap and healthful meal. 

               

Evening Looking East

 

Dear Sirs

                                                                

How long will Congress allow this regime to run rough-shod over the rule of law--to wit, executing suspected drug smugglers while pardoning convicted drug king pins, and turning ICE into a bunch of masked jack-booted thugs who seize and terrorize people of color without bothering to ascertain their actual status? 

How long will you turn a blind eye to the president's aberrations--calling US citizens garbage, sleeping through meetings, demanding more and more praise, slapping his name and architectural footprint all over our nation's capital, and pardoning anyone who can pay?

Why a ballroom, an Arc de Trump, a marble bathroom, a re-do of the Reflecting Pool, and who knows what other ludicrous vanity projects when ordinary citizens are in need, struggling to feed their families? 

I am ashamed of my country and my do-nothing representatives in Congress.

That Skift of Snow

 

Josie's Semi-Snow Days

On Tuesday and Wednesday there was a two-hour delay for school because of icy roads and snow. My dad brought me up to Meema's so he could go to work and she would take me to school. 

Of course there were pancakes. And Meema was surprised to see me reading a book with no pictures.  It is a book about the Cupcake Club and some fourth grade girls. It is very good. 

She was also surprised that I know my multiplication tables. And I know about Galileo. 

While I was waiting for time to go to school, I painted a picture of Meema and her laptop. She has to read the news and other stuff every morning.

                                                                   

 

In the afternoon, I did more painting, only this time it was words. It is a conversation between the dogs.

                                                        

There is a different color for each dog.

Bob is red, Otter is purple, Jenny is orange, and Bailey is purple. (Meema told me that I spelled some words wrong but I told her it doesn't matter.)

And there was still time to make a paper airplane. 

And fly it all over the living room.

 

Shades of Grey Day

 

Thinking About Music

Martin, whose Substack Notes from My Burrow I follow, talks a lot about music--concerts he goes to, artists he admires, music he collects. As I read his essays, I realized that music hasn't played much of a pert in my life for a very long time--partly because my bad hearing doesn't allow me to fully appreciate it, and also because I really enjoy listening to audio books or reading, rather than music. 

But then I started thinking about music that I have loved. 

Here, in semi-chronological order are some of the artists/pieces that stick in my memory:

Home on the Range (I was very young.)

Bolero (it was the finale of Holiday on Ice and I was mesmerized)

Harry Belafonte (the first LP I ever purchased)

Mariachi music (summer school in Mexico)

Joan Baez (first year of college)

Piaf--especially Non, je regretted rien

Leonard Cohen--Suzanne

Red Clay Ramblers- esp. Merchant's Lunch

Reggae-Bob Marley and Jimmy Cliff By the Rivers of Babylon

Jacques Brel

Yo Yo Ma and the Bach Cello Suites

Ashokan Farewell- Ungar and Mason

The Pizza Tapes - Jerry Garcia, David Grisman, and Tony Rice

Oh, dear-- I keep thinking of more. Of course I was a fan of Elvis when I was in my early teens. And The Kingston Trio and Peter, Paul, and Mary. And the Beatles and . . .

What about you? What are your musical memories?

 

Rabbit Rabbit

                                                

Soup and Cornbread

After eating Thanksgiving leftovers on Friday, we were ready for some simpler fare.  The turkey frame had been simmered for hours, resulting in a beautifully rich and complex broth--to which I added potatoes, cannellini beans, celery, and onions. When this had cooked half a day, I made some cornbread--per John's special request.

For the first time in many, many years, I had departed from my usual standby of Pepperidge Farm dressing for the feast. I'd been seduced by a recipe for cornbread dressing that included eggs and heavy cream. I'd never heard of such a thing, but, throwing caution to the winds, I tried it. 

And it involved, of course, making some cornbread on Wednesday. I used the White Lily Buttermilk Cornbread mix and the result was more crispy and delicious that any I'd made before. (I suspect that it was because I mistakenly used more canola oil to grease the skillet than was actually called for. Quite a lot more.) And when John and I tasted it, we knew we'd have to have more soon.

Be that as it may, the dressing, which used crumbled cornbread, torn bits of baguette, celery and onion, eggs, sage, melted butter, broth, and the afore-mentioned heavy cream was sensational! It was like a savory bread pudding and good with or without gravy. And the crusty bits of cornbread retained their integrity. 

So last night I made cornbread again, repeating my mistake of too much oil. 

And it was good.

 

Silent Caturday--from the archives

 

A Burden Shared

This morning when John started to move the still quite heavy turkey from its overnight repose in our frigid mudroom, his back seized up and he set the roasting pan and its contents on the kitchen table and reached for the ibuprophen.

"I'll put it in the oven away from the dogs in a minute, " he said.

I thought about moving it myself but knew that would sorely aggravate my back. Both of us down in the back--quel bummer!

Then, when he reached for the roasting pan, inspiration! I got one handle and he took the other and the remains of the feast was effortlessly transported to the oven to await further dissection.

Such a simple thing but to me it was a moment almost of revelation--this is what partnership or marriage is about. 

Together strong.

 

Wishing You All . . .

                                          Happy Thanksgiving!