Saturday, 24 October 2015

October 23, 2015 - Meatballs, Raspberries

A quick one, I hope: got to get up early for tomorrow's Our Social Fabric sale - the last one at 871 East Hastings. After we give away the last bundle we will dismantle the shop, pack it all into a storage pod, and figure out what to do next.

The music: Joni Mitchell BBC Concert, 1970; Neil Young, same thing, 1971, three times. Can't get enough Neil. Rolling Stones: Live at the BBC (1963-1965); Rolling Stones It's Only Rock 'n' Roll.

Kitchen Island - Friday, October 23, 2015 

Counter-clockwise from lower left: the same water bottle as yesterday, Humatrope, glasses, Encyclopedia of Creative Cooking, phone 1 of 3, yard sale measuring cups. The set was missing exactly the one cup I already had. Lucky, right?

The Encyclopedia of Creative Cooking, 1982, edited by Charlotte Turgeon

Passed a major milestone yesterday: 10,000 hits on my site. I've been watching it come for months. Celebrated with Hawaiian meatballs from the cookbook I snagged from my mom when I left home in 1983, but used pre-made, Costco meatballs. Delicious.

Dinner: two ate Hawaiian Meatballs, one had his meatballs with tomato sauce, one had his tomato sauce with faux ground beef. Cucumbers. 3 milk, 1 sparkling water with lemon
Love Notes
To Do Lists for Three
Trivot from yard sale free box -  what is she doing to that fish?
Contingency plans
Dreams, Reality

Peppers from my daughter's plant, ageing ginger, sketchy fennel, one canning lid left-over from making zucchini relish, a piece of cording, and one small potato - dug by hand on a summer's late afternoon. No gloves, but the soil was perfect and cool and the potatoes worth the dirty fingernails. 

The bowl was painted by me in Mexico, the reward at the end of a pointless time-share presentation. It took a surprising amount of time - most of the vacation... the painting, that is. I was 7 months pregnant. We were there to rest. When I wasn't painting I lay on my side on the swinging palapa platform, reading - white cotton curtains surrounding me, sparkling turquoise ocean just beyond - sucking back banana smoothies and dreaming about the little girl inside me. We would understand each other. 

Though most of my dreams for her will never come true, the same is true for any parent's dreams! The difference is timing, that's all. My dreams came to an end when she was only two months old, when we were presented with her diagnosis, grabbed by the collar, and rudely jerked out of our misty dream-world. How lucky for me! Unburdened by my own hopes, I am free to celebrate her smallest achievement: jumping with two feet together, for example, or figuring out the first step of tying shoelaces. Her achievements are many and fill me with pride. What's more, she is fascinating. She is a delight. Who knows what she's capable of?

The last raspberries of summer - worth removing one's gum for

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