Bouncy!

Comfort Cooking

What to do on a chilly, rainy day?  How about a nice loaf of Praline Pineapple Bread? It warms up the kitchen and it tastes really good with a nice cup of tea.

The recipe is from the website Manila Spoon.

BATTER

2 eggs, lightly beaten

1 cup sugar

1 can (15 oz.) crushed pineapple in juice (not syrup)

2 cups all-purpose flour

1 teaspoon baking soda

1 teaspoon baking powder

1/2 teaspoon salt

1 cup chopped pecans

The original recipe said that no oil was needed but I threw in some melted butter -- maybe 3 tablespoons worth -- just because . . .

TOPPING

1/2 cup butter

1/2 cup brown sugar

DIRECTIONS

Preheat oven to 350F.  Grease a 9x5 loaf pan (I added a greased piece of waxed paper cut to fit the bottom.)

In a large bowl mix flour, baking soda, baking powder, and salt. In another bowl combine the eggs, sugar, and pineapple. Combine the two mixtures and stir to mix. Add half of the pecans.

Spoon mixture into prepared loaf pan. Sprinkle remaining pecans on top and press gently into the batter.

Bake 45-50 minutes or till knife inserted in center comes out clean. Cool in pan 10 minutes then turn out to rack.

                          AND THE TOPPING

Combine the butter and brown sugar in a saucepan and boil hard for 1 minute. Spoon over top  of loaf. Let cool as long as you can bear to wait.

And then I went on to make some jalapeno jelly. I'd harvested most of our remaining peppers when I removed the netting covering them,  in preparation for the high winds that have not yet appeared.  I love hot pepper jelly, not just with cream cheese on a cracker, but as an ingredient in a sandwich with leftover roast -- pork, beef, or chicken -- it works with all of them.

Current projections show Irma tracking well to the west of us . . . we are happy for the rain and will be even happier to avoid wind damage. Our friend and family in Florida all seem to have come through mostly unscathed -- here's hoping Irma fizzle out soon.

AM Update: Our internet was out first thing this morning but is back now. Can we blame Irma? Who knows?

Will She, Won't She?

I'm writing this Sunday afternoon as we wait to see what impact Irma will have here. At one point it looked as if she was heading right for us; now her path is projected to veer towards Tennessee. It's possible we might just get a bit of rain.

We're ready though, if she changes her mind. There could be power outages (if I don't post at some point during the next few days, that's probably the reason.)

And we're holding in our hearts everyone in her path.

Be safe.

Dipping a Cautious Toe into Middlemarch

A while back one of my students from Tampa days (Cindy? Alicia?) posted an article on Facebook that referenced George Eliot's Middlemarch in a positive way. My memory of reading this novel is right there with my memory of Silas Marner -- which is to say, I hated it. 

But that was a long time ago and Middlemarch is one of those works that always turns up on lists like 100 Books You Really Should Have Read.

As most of you know, I read a lot. But it's generally for pleasure.  So I decided I should challenge myself and fight my way through  give Middlemarch another chance.

The opening was a little discouraging with the author asking (at some length) who among us, interested in the history of man, "has not dwelt, at least briefly, on the life of Saint Theresa, has not smiled with some gentleness at the thought of the little girl. walking forth one morning hand-in-hand with her still smaller brother, to go a seek martyrdom in the country of the Moors?"

Well, me, for one, I thought and closed the book, reconsidering my plan of challenging myself. 

A week later, having beguiled the time with (among others) The Graveyard Book and a review copy of a book by another student, I almost picked up an Elmore Leonard paperback that's been on my bedside table for some time. But my conscience pricked me and I decided to give Middlemarch another chance.

The opening (Prelude) was still annoying but I forged on.

Chapter 1 was more  interesting, delineating Dorothea's character as a religious enthusiast "enamoured of intensity and greatness, and rash in embracing whatever seemed to her to have those aspects; likely to seek martyrdom, to make retractions, and then to incur martyrdom after all in quarter where she had not sought it." 

Okay, even though the editor in my head was shouting, Show, don't tell. However, the editor in my head wasn't being fair, as this is a 19th Century novel and Tell is usual. From what I remember of the story, the ensuing pages will show how this prophecy is fulfilled.

But then I came to this delightful description of Dorothea:

"Riding was an indulgence which she allowed herself in spite of conscientious qualms; she felt that she enjoyed it in a pagan sensuous way and always looked forward to renouncing it."

Well,  I thought to myself, wry wit! We're in Jane Austen territory now. And I love Jane Austen. Read on!

And later, this exchange between Dorothea's sister and a neighbor:

"I am so sorry for Dorothea."

"Sorry! It is her doing, I suppose."

"Yes, she says Mr. Causabon has a great soul."

"With all my heart."

"Oh, Mrs. Cadwallader. I don't think it can be nice to marry a man with a great soul."

"Well,my dear, take warning. You know the look of one now; when the next comes and wants to marry you, don't you accept him."

"I'm sure I never should."

I can absolutely see this on stage. On in a movie -- of which I believe there is one. So strange, I have no memory of finding this  book anything but tedious, much less humorous. Now I'm hooked.

I'll let you know how it goes.

Josie Rocks Purple Levis .

And Also Much Cattle . . .

In the Book of Jonah, that grumpy prophet asks the Lord to smite Nineveh for its sins and the Lord replies: And should not I spare Nineveh, that great city, wherein are more than sixscore thousand persons that cannot discern between their right hand and their left hand; and also much cattle?

I've always loved the sheer goofiness of those last four words.  Who knew God cared so much about cattle?  And the reference to so many who know not their right hand from their left makes me think of the many climate change deniers in our country and, even worse, in our government. The Lord may have mercy on such as they but hurricanes won't.

I don't go along with those who see hurricanes as God's wrath descending on the unworthy (even if I felt a small shameful twinge of glee at the thought of Mar-a-Lago being impacted.) Hurricanes aren't surgical strikes against the unjust; they hit the just as well.  (Though it's the poor who will suffer disproportionately. The wealthy developers who pave over paradise, who build condos where wetlands were, who support a government that doesn't regulate -- those folks will write off their losses and move on to do more damage elsewhere.)

Hurricanes like Harvey and Irma are wholesale destroyers, attacking climate change deniers, environmentalists, scientists, those who know not their left hand from their right, and also many cattle -- not to mention all manner of pets and farm animals and wildlife. 

                                                       

These are natural disasters with knowable causes. And scientists agree that man's activities have contributed to the strength and frequency and destructiveness of these storms . 

It's time to acknowledge the new reality -- rising temperatures leading to more drought and forest fires, not to mention more "500 year hurricanes."  It's time to take steps to deal with this new reality, rather than sweeping the mess out of sight (that's gonna be a big job) and praying it won't happen again.

 It's time to get rid of officials who mandate no mention of climate change and rising sea levels, who ignore the adverse effects of fracking. It's time to rethink government aid for rebuilding in flood prone areas. It's time to realize that barrier islands aren't good places to build and wasting tax dollars on 're-nourishing' beaches is a fool's game. It's time to realize that wetlands serve a purpose and draining them to put up condos simply contributes to more flooding in the future. I could go on . . .

But briefly, it's time to pay attention to what the weather (or the Lord) is telling us. 

We don't have to worry about flooding up here on our mountain but we are anticipating the possibility of some high winds, lots of rain, and power outages. So we're looking to our supplies and John and the tractor will be digging out the water breaks.

 Meanwhile, be safe out there, all of you. And your cattle.

I didn't intend to rant. This was going to be a pictures only day and I'd just snapped pictures of some of the cattle. Then, once I'd posted the pictures, the quote from Jonah came to mind so I stuck it in. Then the idea of God destroying a city (or not) made me think of our current situation of fire and flood and hurricane . . . and it went from there. . .

The Graveyard Book

Well, what a pleasant surprise! I've been letting Neil Gaiman read me to sleep at night with his View from the Cheap Seats (I listened to it and blogged about it back when I was doing time at the nursing home/rehab unit but am totally ready to hear it again. In fact, he mentions so many intriguing books and authors that I'm probably going to have to get myself a print copy so I can take notes -- but I digress . . .) and his acceptance speech when The Graveyard Book won the Newbery Award reminded me that I had a copy lurking somewhere.

Turns out, it's an unread copy. I'm not sure what the circumstances were -- did I buy it and shelve it because I was in the middle of other things? Whatever, it's a nice surprise.

It's a riff on Kipling's Jungle Book and Mowgli , the boy raised by wolves and taught (or threatened) by other animals in the jungle. The Graveyard Book is the story of Bod, a boy living in a graveyard and tended by a lively -- make that a friendly contingent of ghosts. He is guarded by a vampire, mentored by a werewolf, befriended by a witch, captured by ghouls, and pursued by the man Jack, the same man that killed Bod's family when Bod was just a toddler.

It should be terrifying. I mean, this is a children's book, for goodness sake. But look at the fairy tales many of us grew up on -- the evil witches, the children abandoned in the forest, the casual cruelty . . . and then they cut off his head . . .

In his acceptance speech, Gaiman talks about his boyhood as an avid reader, a haunter of the library:

". . .fiction was an escape from the intolerable, a doorway into impossibly hospitable worlds where things had rules and could be understood; stories had been a way of learning about life without experiencing it, or perhaps of experiencing it as an eighteenth-century poisoner dealt with poisons, taking them in tiny doses, such that the poisoner could cope with ingesting things that would kill someone who was not inured to them. Sometimes fiction is a way of coping with the poison of the world in a way that lets us survive it."

The book is wonderful -- full of wonder -- with an ending that left me with a smile on my lips and a lump in my throat -- a perfect ending, in other words.

Now I just have to get the listening version . . . because hearing Gaiman read it will make it all the better.

Oh, What a Beautiful Morning!

Polly's Letter (Letters from Five Characters)

Polly Allen, the wife of the commanding officer of the Confederate unit responsible for what history calls The Shelton Laurel Massacre, is another character I asked to tell me why I should write the book.

My dear Mrs. Lane,

When I learned of your projected work dealing with the unhappy events surrounding me and mine during the late War Between the States, my first thought was one of the deepest revulsion. I have no desire to relive those painful days and nights, months and years.

But a second thought occurred -- you are a woman, a wife and a mother. Perhaps your heart will guide you to describe the particular and terrible horrors that war -- war on one's very doorstep -- brings to women. Fear for my children, my husband, my home,  and, yes, fear for myself was a constant companion -- but I can say no more.  I will rely upon you to express the horrors we endured.

My prayer is that your womanly account of our sufferings may touch hearts and turn minds to peace and its blessings. The gentlemen are far too likely to forget the pain and terror and glorify the bravery, even in pursuit of a lost cause.

My last request is that you treat my poor Lawrence fairly. He was and is an honorable man who believed that he fought for his homeland and our way of life. History has not been kind to him . . .


                                                        Most truly yours,
                                                
                                                      Polly (Mrs. Lawrence Allen)

Starting Her Young

Credit Shane M.

After taking me to pick up John from the hospital, Justin returned to his weekend guests and their on-going role playing game. 

Both of my boys started gaming when they were young but I have a real feeling Josie's going to have them beat.

Claui forwarded me these pictures with the heading "Josie and Daddy's First Dungeon Crawl."

John is doing great -- he'll see a doctor for follow-up next week. He has meds for the cough and the pneumonia and the AFib -- and was told he can resume normal activity.

I will try to get him to hold off till the pneumonia's gone

Credit: Shane M.

Almost Deja Vu All over Again

Almost a year ago I was jolting down our road in the back of an ambulance. In the wee hours of Saturday morning, there I was again -- only this time I got to sit up front.

John has been suffering from a persistent cough which comes and goes. Just when he would almost make up his mind to see the doctor, he'd wake up feeling fine -- and decide a trip to the clinic wasn't necessary.

Friday night we had friends over and Justin and Claui and some of their friends were here too. Late in the evening, after the young uns had gone home, we were sitting and chatting about lawn mowers and whether John should see a doctor as our friend Bob suggested should be a priority. Three of us were in favor of this plan; John was non-committal.)

In the midst of the discussion, John had a severe coughing attack -- so severe that he seemed to choke and then he passed out, falling from his chair to the floor. 

It was a very scary moment but almost at once, John came to. Bob was monitoring his pulse and after a few minutes told me to call 911. When the EMS arrived, they said that John had Atrial Fibrillation . . .

Hence the ride to the hospital. In the Emergency Room, we learned that he also has pneumonia. They at once gave him antibiotics and a medicine to slow his racing heart.

So he's in for a few days observation, hooked up to monitors and having all sorts of tests. He's feeling good and knows that he's where he needs to be. He's also a little chagrined at having given our friend Bob I told you so fodder for a lifetime.

I had to laugh when the young man who came to talk about John's eventual discharge asked if he used a cane or a walker. around the house.

"This man was mowing and weed-eating acres of hilly land day before yesterday," I told the fella. "Half a day with a walk-behind mower. No cane."

Joyous Update: I got a call at 8 this morning. He's being discharged at noon!

September Gallimaufry

If I Were Going . . .For Dummies

So, we're bound for the headwaters of the Mississippi, in the Magical Red Car that holds an infinite number of adventurers. 

Merisi is riding shotgun (and keeping her eye peeled for coffee shops while Andree, Therese, Ruth, Jayna, Renee, and JJ Roa Rodriquez (he brought snacks) are cozy in the back. (The fuzzy dice were Ruth's idea.)

We've stopped in Ft. Mitchell, Kentucky because how could we not? We're using Atlas Obscura as our road map and it has pointed us to the Vent Haven Museum and the World's Largest Collection of ventriloquist dummies. 

I have to say I find it extremely creepy.

Therese asks if this is typical Americana. I think it probably is.

But at least they aren't clowns.

While we're passing through Kentucky, we'll hit Cumberland Falls in Williamsburg so Andree and Renee and JJ can get some pictures. And I'm pretty sure no one wants to miss the Biblical Miniature Golf or Pope Lick Trestle, where the legendary goat man lurks.  

We might check out Troublesome Creek in Claypole, home to the Blue People, and Jayna insists we drive by DeHart's Bible and Tire (that's all they sell) so she can get a picture of their sign.

It'll be a full several days and we'll be happy to lay our heads down in the Wigwam Village in Claypole before continuing north and west toward Minnesota.

Stay tuned.