Wednesday, February 28, 2018


My maternal grandmother's habit of saving all types of plastic containers, including yogurt pots and flimsy bowls from microwavable dinners, and using them to eat from every day despite having cabinets full of china, has inspired me to do the opposite. I know my mom would say the same—I'm pretty sure that she began using "special" dishes and cutlery all the time, instead of saving them for "special," soon after the time we stayed in my grandmother's Kansas house and helped her move into an assisted living place.*

Aww, spoony spoony.

I've done the same thing, especially since we were able to remodel and simplify our kitchen. There is one silverware drawer with all the silver we've collected over the years, and one with mainly stainless steel but also a cache of (unmatched) silver teaspoons. I love to use those spoons.

Our next door neighbors moved out abruptly last week. Well, it was abrupt from our point of view, but who knows. To them it may have taken forever. They were renters, from the elderly owners (who moved in with a daughter in Illinois years ago, and may or may not still be living. Before they left, the German retired philosophy professor, famous for scaling ladders and trees to paint his house and do extensive pruning well into his 70s and early 80s, gave Zoë a beautiful typewriter with a German keyboard). Yesterday there was a man with a metal detector combing the yard. I wonder if he was looking for something specific (A lost piece of jewelry? A time capsule buried years ago?), or if that's just a thing people do when they move, just in case. I am imagining the house will be sold. I am really going to miss hearing the kid next door practicing his bagpipes, and yes I mean that sincerely. Mark and I referred to him as "Wee Piper" despite the fact that he is now in high school, because of his mom's vanity license plate, which read WEEPIPR. Also, he was a Boy Scout and sold us an affordable and lovely Christmas wreath every year. And once, he and Mark teamed up to rescue a baby squirrel. They probably lived there for five or six years, right next door, and those are all the interactions I can think of. My neighborhood is weird.

*Mark was there too. We were children, practically. It was fun, and later we found out that there was a carbon monoxide leak in the house that had no doubt put a madcap, lightheaded spin on the whole thing.

Thursday, February 22, 2018

Tomato tomato

I'm forever advising people to keep a dream journal and not doing it myself. My dreams last night a few nights ago were dense, the kind that feel like they go on for hours. I was driving to Emily's house (which was in upstate New York), worried because I was late to her wedding AGAIN, and that while she forgave me for being late to her first wedding, she'd never forgive me for being late to her second wedding (to the same person).*

There was more, and more, and more, but that's what I remember now.

My co-worker got a shot of botox in a wrinkle she hated. You can't notice it at all (although I never noticed the wrinkle). She is so happy about it. She and I are almost exactly the same age.

I think I need want a store-bought haircut.

I made red lentil dal but substituted coconut milk for some of the water = comfort food.

I tried poké last night, and I am in love. I had spicy tuna, and it was a delicious bowl of deliciousness, with tuna, spicy sauce, edamame, crab, seaweed salad, something crunchy, brown sushi rice... That's my new desert island food choice, if it can be counted as a single food. 

*Truth=I was late to her wedding, six months pregnant, in a car with Mark and Holly, and the way I remember it, I changed into the one pretty maternity dress I owned (and which I wore to three weddings that summer/fall) in the moving car. We were late in part because this was pre-GPS, and the upstate New York road we were on suddenly just ended in a ROAD CLOSED sign, and we had to re-navigate using a paper map.

Thursday, February 08, 2018

Complaints, lodged

Just out here accidentally oxidizing my silver rings with stinky chemical depilatory product. And you?

I have the hand skin of a 1000 year old woman, and I'm at that point in the winter when

  • I'm allergic to every possible hand lotion, meaning contact dermatitis that looks like a poison ivy rash and yet
  • My skin is so dry my fingertips are cracking painfully

I have Googled the hell out of "itchy scalp," and this is my favorite answer.

Monday, February 05, 2018

Your own shivering life

I ended up spending a lot of the weekend fending off some illness (cold, rather than flu, I'm now pretty sure) with spoonfuls of this and hot tea. I started a new stitching project and was greatly comforted by multiple episodes of Great British Bakeoff, the most soothing TV show ever. Last night we ate Mark's roasted salmon with spinach, and I used up great quantities of leftover stale baguette by making chocolate bread pudding. It had to be chocolate to get Mark to eat it (I suspect there's something he finds unsavory about the name BREAD PUDDING, but it's one of my favorite desserts). It was a bit too chocolatey, but otherwise delicious.

A year ago, we hadn't met this cutie yet!

But we already loved her.

Sunday, February 04, 2018

Tight and mean

A dream about a beloved pet shark, a baby with its teeth somehow on the outside and soft soft skin (you could pet it as it swam by, and it wasn't scary or disgusting), but then it grew bigger and bigger. We had to come to terms with the fact that it was a shark and sharks are capable of eating people. I think somehow it was wrestled out of the water and put in a room to die (I didn't do it, but someone did).

Another dream where I was hiding out in the back of an empty semi truck...and wandering through a huge fabric store that was also empty, possibly being prepared to be painted. No fabric to be seen.

Fighting off a sickness that I was afraid might be the Flu but I am feeling so much better today that perhaps not!

The Simile Museum.  “The girl’s face was as tight and mean as broccoli.” -Toni Morrison