No Accounting

"There's no accounting for taste."  It's probably time to shop at a real grocery store instead of a quick stop in the limited aisles at Walmart.  Opening doors and drawers in the kitchen yesterday in search of something (anything) fast and edible, my mind wandered and I started thinking about what would really taste good right then.  I realize it wouldn't be on everyone's menu, but I fixated on a cold liverwurst sandwich and garlic dill pickles!  Fried liverwurst with a good char, even better.  Limburger cheese and Rye Crisp crackers!  Is my German heritage showing?  I can't go so far as my mother and the Kids' dad who both enjoyed pickled pigs' feet; too much gristle for my taste.  It's getting harder and harder to find good liverwurst or even braunschweiger (there is a difference, I think), and next to impossible to find Limburger cheese.  When I wanted some alone time when the kids were little, I could clear them out of the house faster than you could say Jack Robinson by opening a package of Limburger.  (I did a quick disappearing act of my own when their dad would fry kidneys.)

Gnawing on a disappointing raw carrot in desperation, I came across the Christmas present from my sister-in-law, Lynne.  For years, Lynne has sent a Mason jar of some or another type of ready-to-make layered "stuff."  She's very inventive.  It might be a mixture of dried beans for soup or chili, or a triple-fudge cookie.  With the addition of a couple of fresh items, voila!  Yesterday I added applesauce and two eggs to the contents of the jar and in no time at all the house was perfumed and I was munching on warm spice cake.  My brother-in-law, Stan, always sends along a bottle of his home-brewed beer and I'd be hard pressed to say which of their gifts I enjoy more.

It rained almost all of yesterday, but it was a tolerable type of rain; a drizzle instead of a downpour and next to no wind.  The girls, big and little, even ventured out in the afternoon.  The chickens are evidently bored in wet weather and have settled down to lay some eggs in the coop.

It's not hard to tell where the warmest spot in the house was.  Ralph and Celeste claimed their spot in front of the stove.  Bess, of course, was on my lap.  After the exertions of the day before, I was ready for some down time.  And cake.  (But I'm still thinking about liverwurst.)