January 31, 2022

Boxing up orders for my first post office run later this week!

 

January 27, 2022

I worked on this beastie, a lemon orange bundt cake, off and on for four hours last night. Whatever energy I burned make-n-baking it will be replenished in overplus by the first slice I eat, however: 10 eggs, 2 sticks of butter, 3+ cups of sugar, etc. For what I presume are obvious reasons, I don't make this recipe often.

 

January 18, 2022

Brown dreams in a white world

 

January 14, 2022

Today would have been my dad's 88th birthday (he passed away in the summer of 2014). He still visits me pretty frequently in dreams, and little things -- sometimes aggravating, but more frequently warm or just plain silly (I know who I inherited that part of my personality from) -- continue to remind me of him in my waking hours. The old adage about our loved ones never really being absent from us is true, as long as we allow the seeds they sowed in us to continue to sprout and bloom.

My father liked bourbon, so I made myself an old fashioned at 5:00 and toasted him.

January 14, 2022

I sold my old Oxford U. Press copy of John Dryden's poems and fables on eBay yesterday. I purchased it for a class during my junior year in Scotland, and safe to say I was never going to look at again. When I printed the shipping label this morning, I noticed that the buyer was a gal from Oregon whose last name was Dryden. I suppose there are reasons to read Dryden now if you're not a blood relation, but still, hmm...

 

January 11, 2022

During a chat exchange with some work buddies about housekeeping, I observed, "I loathe dusting.  I sneeze a lot.  I think there's a causal connection in there somewhere."

January 6, 2022

It's snowing and 25 degrees out. I declare tonight a good night to listen to Steely Dan and bake brownies (so there). A friend observed, "The Dan *and* brownies!?! You, madame, know how to live."

 

January 3, 2022

I put polish on my fingernails this morning for the first time in a few years. Shortly before turning out the light last night, I was looking at my hands while lying in bed and decided I wanted to do it. On one level, so what? But after I finished, I realized that this small thing was another positive step out of my pandemic malaise: I'm gradually starting to give a blip about how I look again.

January 1, 2022

You know you're in end-of-vacation stopgap mode when your Saturday night entree is canned smoked herring, one of your sides is left over from the dish you made for a New Year's Eve gathering, and the other side is the part of the sweet potato that didn't end up in brunch. #DontBeHatingOnCannedFish #NotKissingAnyoneTonight (NB: That second one is an actual hashtag. The first one ought to be.)

 

January 1, 2022

Girding my loins for the year to come by starting it on a festive foot: sweet potato waffles. (NB: "Girding my loins" is of course a figurative expression: the waffles are going in my mouth, not on my nether parts.)