That's A First

In many ways, Tuesday was a day for celebration.  It  was my first time away from home since before the Caldor fire and everything felt new.  Dan was a welcome addition on our outing.  He's always good company, and so we three amigos set off on an adventure with Florence as the chauffeur.  As Florence said, conversation in a car is always good.  The weather was mild and traffic was light, and we arrived at the doctor's office early.  I got dropped off and those two went off to explore the 'town' of Cameron Park, essentially two shopping malls and a medical complex.  The doctor was running late (what a surprise) and then I needed lab work, so we got a late start toward lunch.

There was no debate and we agreed on a familiar Chinese restaurant in Diamond Springs.  We were almost giddy as we walked into the place, masks in place.  It was the first time we'd been able to eat inside since the pandemic restrictions, longer than that for me.  The food was good, our waiter was friendly, and the company was great.

The ride home seemed almost too short, and the day was done.  It was a good day.

Stay safe.  Be well.

More Rambling

Chefs will now tell you to remove bay leaves before serving a dish.  Back in the day when my Kids were little, all we knew was not to eat them.  I told my Kids that these leaves were special and whoever found one could make a wish while licking off the sauce, same as  breaking a wishbone.  My Kids hunted for bay leaves like they were buried treasure in their dinner and no one was in danger of choking.

We got a couple of hours of steady light rain last night, maybe enough to do some good this time.  I'm glad it stopped, because Florence and I have our day planned.  This includes a doctor's appointment (me), a hardware store (her), a few other stops, and then the grand finale, having lunch out!  The last time I ate out was back in April, I think, when Michael and I had hamburgers at Bones Roadhouse.  I'm sorry my little friend can't come along this time.  I've explained to Michael this is a girls-only outing.

Six-thirty and it's still dark outside.  It's getting dark at six-thirty at night, too.  Boy, the seasons change fast.  Someone asked me the other day how I was fixed for firewood, this while I was still turning on the ceiling fan for the hint of a breeze.

Celeste is a lap sitter.  Ralph is a bedtime snuggler.  She wraps herself around my ankles when she wants something.  Ralph takes the more direct approach by tapping on my shoulder.  Siblings, their personalities are so different, same as my Kids.

Omigosh. what a gorgeous red sunrise through the remaining clouds, a great way to start the day.

Stay safe.  Be well.

Rambling

Now that it's officially fall, I have a hankering for a pot of dried lima beans and ham hocks.  It's the next best thing to a seasonal tradition, but I fear it's not to be.  I can't figure a way to make a little pot of beans and, being just one, it would take more than a week of the same meal night after night.  By then those beans would create enough methane gas to fuel a rocket ship and Michael would probably move out.

Either the weather has the vultures confused or the big birds have chosen a different meeting place to gather for their annual migration.  This event usually takes place about the twenty-first of September,  There are a few more of the big birds overhead than usual, but nothing like the massive numbers I've seen in the past.  Canadian honkers (geese) used to fly over in the thousands on their trek north or south, but no more.  I've seen and heard a couple of vees fly by, but that's it.  Another disappointment.

I don't know when or why I quit reading or working on crafts, but it's been years now since I've picked up a book or a hank of beads to turn into something special or put foot to the pedal of the spinning wheel.  I thought of the wheel the other day when I had brushed out another puppy-sized ball of fur from Michael.  What beautiful, cloud-soft yarn that would make.

I wait every week for the next episode of 'Vera,' a British mystery show on PBS, my go-to channel.  These are very involved, not bloody, murders set in gorgeous countryside locations.  I watch so many British productions that I'm no longer confused when drivers get out of the 'wrong' side of the car.  I'm a latecomer to 'McCloud's Daughters,' an Australian production, and am learning a new accent and idioms.

While I spend most of the day in my chair, my mind travels far and wide.  Keeps things interesting.

Stay safe.  Be well.

Namaste

As if we didn't know, the huge Harvest moon is a sure sign we're in transition from summer to fall...a couple of cool days and nights and then the heat lands again with a thud.  Ah well.

Florence and Dan stopped by yesterday.  Florence always comes in laughing.  She has taken it upon herself to keep the water trough in the goat pen filled, not because there are goats now, but because the resident vultures use it as a swimming pool.  She says there are always six or eight of the big birds splashing or floating.

A small herd of four deer wandered by on the driveway in front of the house, taking their time and enjoying the view.  They are one of the perks of living here.

Michael continues to shed.  The trash bag was full but light, stuffed with huge balls of fur.  I hope this stops before we get down to bare skin.

Ralph is so into our bedtime snuggle routine now that he beats me to bed, tapping my shoulder if I'm slow to lie down.  That's okay, I like it, too.  Michael snores, Ralph cuddles, and Celeste is tucked in behind my legs.  All's right in my nighttime world.

Cardboard accumulates at an alarming rate.  Glass and plastic can go in the recycle bin, but boxes accumulate.  Helper Dude is coming next week to make a dump run and get the north end of the deck back in shape.  I'm looking forward to that.  HD and his family had to evacuate during the worst of the fire here.  After 23 days, they were allowed to go back home, unsure of what they would find.  I can only imagine their relief to find their house still standing, among so many that didn't escape the flames.

Stay safe.  Be well.

The Brush Off

When a dog like Michael sheds, it is momentous.  His coat is thick, rich, lush, and mainly black as ebony.  Just as I never understood why chickens moult just before winter, I don't understand why Michael loses his insulation just before the start of cold weather, but lose it he does.  When he starts looking a little ragged around the edges and clumps of fur drift across the room like tumbleweeds, I know it's time to get out the slicker brush and go at it.

My fella wasn't too sure about this process in the beginning, but with a little practice and patience, I think he's come to enjoy it.  Now all I have to do is pat my leg and show him the brush and he comes right to me.  It's up to him where I get to work, right side, left, shoulders, back, belly or butt.  So far, I've curried enough fur to create two good-sized Pomeranians or maybe six long-hair Chihuahuas, and we're not done yet.  Michael is a serious shedder.

We lost power again for a couple of long days and nights.  I don't know if PG&E is covering their butts or punishing we who complain, but it's a real thing now and comes out of nowhere.

There has been a real cool down in the weather (yay!) and there was a dab of rain last night.  Not enough to do any good and probably not enough to even settle the dust, but I'll take it.

Besides giving Michael the brush off, I need to get some routine back in my life.  I thrive on the tried and true, and lately all there's been was chaos.

Stay safe.  Be well.

Unexpected

I had been fretting for the last few days about getting to the polls to vote.  Even though I might get to the truck, how was I going to get into the building to cast my ballot?  (Yes, walking is a problem.)  Back in the day, eligibility to vote came at age 21.  I'm proud to say I have not missed an election, local, state, or national in all this time and I sure didn't want to break that record.  I also like to vote in person.  I like the sense of community, the gathering of the people to make their voices heard.  Ah well.  So be it.

Cam called in the afternoon to say her grapes were ready for picking and I could send Chuck down on his way for the trash run.   I mentioned my frustration over voting and she sympathized.  Chuck did come by and I relayed Camille's message.  Well, who's going to pass up the offer of free fruit?  He came back soon, laden with the sweetest, juiciest, seedless green grapes.  I'll admit it, I gorged, and grapes were dinner last night.

Night was falling (comes earlier now) when Cam called again.  She was at the polling place and had found out they offer curbside service and did I want her to come get me.  Oh, yes, please!  She did and we made it with 13 minutes to spare.  It didn't take that long to fill out the forms and we were back on the road in no time.  You can imagine I was one happy lady.

The day was full of unexpected surprises.

It was a good day.

Stay safe.  Be well.

Nostalgia

Oh, I still watch cooking shows, but not with the same verve as in the past.  I used to think "Oh, So-and-so would like that!,"  or "Not on a bet."  I have two bookcases full of cookbooks and a folder chock full of loose recipes garnered over the years, all gathering dust.  I don't cook anymore, not even for myself. and my last Thanksgiving with the Kids before Covid was KFC.  That's just pitiful.  I could be drummed out of the kitchen!

Tucked in among the Julia Child books and so many others, is a small black notebook in which I started writing recipes when I was first married to the Kids' dad.  Some were from my mother, but not many.  Even back in the day I knew she wasn't a very good cook.  She excelled at baking pies, but I think she had maybe five spices in her cupboard.  She cooked midwestern bland (no offense intended), and we ate out frequently.

Not long ago, my son Larry's lady asked for my recipe for Beef Stroganoff.  Maybe Larry is also feeling nostalgic.  What with the fires and all, I didn't get around to finding that little black book until just the other day.  It's a fairly simplistic recipe as written, and if I were ever to make it again, I'd make a few changes.  Take it for what it's worth.

BEEF STROGANOFF

Cut 1-1/2 lb. sliced round steak into thin strips, dust with flour and a little pepper.  In a large skillet, brown meat in margarine.  Add 1 can sliced mushrooms, drained, 1/2 chopped onion, 1 minced garlic clove, and cook until softened.  Stir in 1 can beef broth, cover and simmer about 1 hour.  Stir in 1 cup sour cream over low heat for 5 minutes.  Serve over buttered noodles.

Now I'd use fresh mushrooms and quite a lot more onion and garlic.  Back in the day, I was cooking for a family of big, healthy eaters and would have doubled the amounts, even as given.

I wish Hawaii were closer, maybe I'd get a dinner invitation.

Stay safe.  Be well.