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Inching along
Dec. 10th, 2002 03:57 pmThe Evil Cooking Luck has reversed itself, so that I successfully made pasta with soy crumbles, steamed brussels sprouts, bread, and salad for dinner one night, and a slightly more ambitious lentil and spinach stew with grated fresh ginger and serrano pepper and caramelized onions, with steamed broccoli and brown rice, the next night.
Fifty words in the two days, however. Sheesh.
I had lunch with my mother today; we usually do that on Wednesday, but she has to take what she is pleased to call "the geezers' driving test" this Wednesday. I'm having dinner with daedala tonight. But that is hardly a full schedule. There's plenty of time left for writing. I'm having trouble visualizing some architecture, and should perhaps do a bit of research or maybe even, the horror! thinking.
We're having a heat wave, by ordinary Minnesota definitions. It was 44 degrees F, so I took my cat out on his leash. He sniffed a great many things with vigor; considered climbing trees but decided against it; tore across the front yard, dragging me, to greet a departing David; made a determined effort to get into the neighbors' yard; and finally dashed up to the back door and pawed at it until I let him in.
I noticed that the miniature irises that Susan Levy Haskell gave me last fall, and supplemented with an additional handful that she gave David at a party I didn't attend, have little new leaves. I planted them rather late, which concerned David a lot, since he had been entrusted to deliver them; but she said they were tough, and I guess they are. I can't wait to see them bloom. Susan says the buds are the best part, but it sounds as if I'll like the flowers too.
Not much else is doing in the garden, warmth or not. Plants get it that when the amount of light is diminishing daily, one should stay put.
Lots of cardinals and nuthatches and juncoes, plus the usual assortment of house sparrows and house finches. I've heard bluejays, but they have not honored me with their presence recently.
I'd better go glare at my sluggish novel.
Pamela
Fifty words in the two days, however. Sheesh.
I had lunch with my mother today; we usually do that on Wednesday, but she has to take what she is pleased to call "the geezers' driving test" this Wednesday. I'm having dinner with daedala tonight. But that is hardly a full schedule. There's plenty of time left for writing. I'm having trouble visualizing some architecture, and should perhaps do a bit of research or maybe even, the horror! thinking.
We're having a heat wave, by ordinary Minnesota definitions. It was 44 degrees F, so I took my cat out on his leash. He sniffed a great many things with vigor; considered climbing trees but decided against it; tore across the front yard, dragging me, to greet a departing David; made a determined effort to get into the neighbors' yard; and finally dashed up to the back door and pawed at it until I let him in.
I noticed that the miniature irises that Susan Levy Haskell gave me last fall, and supplemented with an additional handful that she gave David at a party I didn't attend, have little new leaves. I planted them rather late, which concerned David a lot, since he had been entrusted to deliver them; but she said they were tough, and I guess they are. I can't wait to see them bloom. Susan says the buds are the best part, but it sounds as if I'll like the flowers too.
Not much else is doing in the garden, warmth or not. Plants get it that when the amount of light is diminishing daily, one should stay put.
Lots of cardinals and nuthatches and juncoes, plus the usual assortment of house sparrows and house finches. I've heard bluejays, but they have not honored me with their presence recently.
I'd better go glare at my sluggish novel.
Pamela
