Oops, I Did It Again

Chicken salad! A long-time favorite that I learned to make in my mother's kitchen--cutting up the boiled chicken with kitchen shears, chopping the apple and celery, grating in a tiny bit of onion (I now use half an onion and chop it,) and mixing it together with mayonnaise (I add a touch of curry powder now.)

It's one of my go-to hot weather meals--make it in the early morning, no heating up the kitchen.

So that's what I did yesterday, subbing in chicken from a store-bought rotisserie bird (not as good as when I boil/simmer the bird myself with lots of seasoning, including curry powder, But good enough.)

Oddly enough, like the hot weather shrimp salad I made last week, the chicken salad seemed to bring cooler weather. We were sitting on the porch before supper and had to go inside and put on long-sleeved shirts.

Mind you, I'm not complaining. Temperature in the seventies is near perfect. And, as John said, it felt like the beginning of fall. 

Looking out, the green on the mountain sides is beginning to tarnish a bit. And we're not running multiple fans in every room.

All this may change in a heartbeat. But we're enjoying it for now!

Update: 54 degrees this Monday morning!

 

Silent Sunday

                                    

 

Death of the Author

                                         

My older son suggested I might like this book so I leaped right in. It's pretty amazing--a dual story line that follows Zelu, a disabled Nigerian-American writer/wild child and her struggles with her larger than life and overly protective family, interspersed with chapters of the post-apocalyptic novel she is writing about the tribes of robots who have replaced mankind.

I found the Zelu story line totally compelling, especially for the insight into the  Nigerian/American family and community. Zelu's rise to best-seller status and her fight to be, not just independent, but untrammeled by her disability, was epic. And the peek at Igbo and Yoruba culture was fascinating.

For me, the robot sections were certainly thoughtful, especially in light of the growth of AI in our everyday life, but less compelling than the sections about the messy, exuberant life of Zelu.

Until the end. 

The incredible twist at the end left me breathless and needing to reread the entire book. Maybe even rethink reality as I perceive it.

An amazing book!

Looking East

The sun was a molten red when it rose a few minutes after 7 --alas, from my bedroom it was mostly obscured by trees. In the couple of minutes it took me to get to the front porch, clouds had swallowed it up. 

I shall have to get up a bit earlier.

 

From the Porch

 

First Day of Fourth Grade

Her hair is (uncharacteristically) pulled back, the better to display the earrings in her newly pierced ears. The shoes and the jacket make quite a big girl fashion statement.

And last Sunday, the family went on the river! All photos from Claui.)

                        I think she enjoyed herself.
                                                                     

            

Rainmaker

Yesterday was really hot and I had, in the early morning, prepped a shrimp salad (shrimp, onion, celery, hard-boiled eggs, red bell pepper, held together with homemade mayo and homemade ranch dressing.) All that was missing was a big tomato and some chips. 

At the grocery, I was delighted to find beautiful local heirloom tomatoes. Also potato chips. But when I got home, the chips had gone missing. Thus the little cheese crackers on the side. Not the same but not bad.

But the really weird (even weirder than the missing chips) thing is--and it's happened many, many times before--is that something about my making shrimp salad for a hot-day meal almost always brings on the rain. And we enjoy our hot-day meal in blessed cool.

With a bonus rainbow!

 

The Cherokee Peach

Hit was washday and I was haulin water from the spring when Levy Johnson come down the mountain. My fire was goin good but I needed me some more water for the rinsin. Levy was on his way to help Daddy with plowin the corn and he was ridin a big sorrel mare, all geared up, but when he saw me he slid down from the mare's back and said, I'll tote them heavy pails for you.

His hair was the color of Mister Tomlin's gold pieces and his face was smooth and put me in mind of the ripe peaches on our red-leaved Cherokee peach tree. I smiled when I thought this for just then the sun broke through the morning mist and I could see the fuzz, same as a peach has, all along Levy's jawbone.

When I wrote that scene in Signs in the Blood, I had this particular peach tree in mind -- red leaves, small pinky-red peaches. I have no idea what the varietal name of our peach tree (which grows down at our pond --not by the cabin) might be. But I know how free and easy my older neighbors were with proper names of plants and it seemed not unlikely that Little Sylvie might have known a red-leaved peach as a Cherokee.

Feeling curious, I asked Mr. Google about Cherokee peach. Turns out there is one -- but I doubt it's the same.

I also learned that peaches were a very early introduction to the Americas -- probably brought in by the Spaniards -- and they 'went wild' so long ago that many people (myself included) assumed they were native.

Peaches were cultivated by the Native Americans and one of the many sad stories from the Trail of Tears was that the soldiers destroyed the Cherokee orchards to force them away from their land.

But peaches are stubborn and wherever the fruit drops, before long a new tree will spring up. Resilient-- like the Cherokee.

The Beauty of Old Barns

 

Dear Sirs

 Once again I urge you to pay attention to what is going on  under your watch. 

Your president, not content with taking a wrecking ball to the White House and expending billions of taxpayer dollars on unneeded vanity projects, luxury jets, and the useless wall in Big Bend National Park, has decided that he knows more about jet launch systems and childhood vaccines than the experts. Meanwhile he and his family continue to rake in billions.

While the sailors aboard the USS Abraham Lincoln continue to suffer inhumane conditions, leading to mental health problems--all of which Trump and Hegseth deny despite testimony of family members.

I am also appalled to learn that the thugs of ICE are being issued electric shock gloves, despite their proven track record of reckless endangerment (and murder) of civilians and mistreatment of perceived undocumented immigrants.

It seems that the cruelty, capriciousness, and greed of this administration have no limits. When will you be moved to try to rein it in?

Nine Years Ago

We were just getting to know one another.

But she already seemed pretty sure of her place in the universe.

Next week. 4th grade! 

 

Will We, Nil We

                                                                   

                                         

Like it or not, perhaps the current high prices of meat and gas could end up being beneficial to the planet and our health. 

I strive to find the positives in the current unpleasantness. One is, that with the astronomical price of food, beef in particular, we (John and I) are eating less beef. We've tried for some years to stick to an every other day vegetarian menu, but now the non-vegetarian days feature much smaller portions of meat.  Probably good for us; certainly good for the planet.

And I've long been careful about gas consumption, making one trip out serve several purposes. Then I read yesterday that, due to the high cost of gas (due to Trump's stupid war). Pakistan is seeing a surge in the purchase of electric scooters and bikes.

I know this is a simplistic viewpoint, but wouldn't it be interesting if some environmental good comes of this regime's disastrous policies?

It Was Time

After a quarter of a century and hard use by multiple dogs (and cats who expressed themselves artistically on the back, the leather sofa and love seat had reached a state that would have suited them for a stage set for some family-down-on-their-luck drama. Rips, mended with duct tape (brown instead of silver--we're not barbarians) and a pervasive ground-in nastiness that we covered inadequately with a denim cloth have been troubling us for some time.

It wasn't just getting new furniture; it was getting rid of the old. The love seat was manageable through the twists and turns of our front door but the sofa had to be brought in by removing some of the basement stairs and shoving it (with the aid of our two sons) up through the opening. 

We didn't want to do that again. So we shopped online for modular furniture in boxes that could be unpacked on the porch and brought in piecemeal through the front door.

What we ended up with suits us fine. The covers are removable and washable. We added a waterproof cover to the sofa as Otter has a bit of an uncertain bladder. And also just to preserve the sofa. We'll pull the cover off and add throw pillows when we have company.

My chair is very imposing. I feel like Captain Kirk on the Enterprise and may begin saying "Make it so" a lot.

The dogs are less pleased. They were all pretty sure that old sofa was theirs. They were watching in horror as Justin sawed it into two pieces (in order to get it out the door) and Otter remained on the cushy back till forcibly removed.

I got Jenny a new bed to try to make up for the loss of her favorite resting place (see below.)

                                                               

I don't think she's convinced.