Switch, sil vous plait.
It seems that there have been a lot of things going on that I have not commented on as I usually do because, frankly, I am still SPEECHLESS. What is it all, I ask and the word FREEDOM best describes it.
Days are flying by, and getting longer. Where it was pitch black by 5:30 PM just a while ago, it is still light at 6PM. Sunsets have been beautiful, evenings filled with soft, filtered light, birdsong. March is nearly here, and spring, and can’t help but rid myself of the feeling things have changed, are changing and a motion has been set over which I no longer have any control but am happy to go along for the ride…
So much to comment about happenings in the world, the nation, but speechlessness won’t let me go there because there’s another plane now that I seem to have been lifted upon.
Does this mean I am turning into a bore, or was I always one to begin with?
Did you like my story? Is there some way you can say yay or nay by some means since you seem to eschew the conventional ones…but kindly don’t bring her into it!
It’s been overcast, hot and muggy, and when I went to 8AM Mass at St. Francis Xavier this morning, it was still hot, muggy and overcast. I saw Dr. Peterson and his sweet wife Charlene at Mass, he served again as “altar boy,” and when I was walking out past them, Charlene cried, “why don’t you come for breakfast with us at the Waffle House?” I said, yes!, then remembered the diet and Dr. Tim as I call him said, oh, you can still order something. He told me where it was and it was still hot and muggy and overcast and five minutes later when I reached the place, it was now rainy and cold. Cold-ish. New Orleans weather. I have been watching carbs and intended to stay that way at breakfast but when we walked into the place, a diner on Airline Hwy, and I saw the huge circular waffles AND smelled their vanilla-like fragrance, alas, I caved. We had so much fun. They are a wonderful couple, happy, fun-loving and he is an honest character. I ordered maple syrup and a side of sausage, and I told both of the, please don’t think I’m crazy, as I cut a piece of sausage, dipped it into the maple syrup atop the waffle and speared it along with a piece of waffle. Heaven. They both said that was a favorite of theirs and had been trying to concoct a waffle made with sausages, which you know, sounds pretty darn delicious. This was a nice surprise, I now have a standing invitation to join them their for breakfast after Mass on Sundays.
I have lost some weight, and do you know, just shedding about five pounds has loosened up my back and legs to where it’s no longer painful for walk–vicious circle, I haven’t been able to walk so I gained some weight a dangerous combination when you also love to cook, drink wine, and Monsieur JD. I’m not a porker, but I was starting to get a little watermelon in my mid-region that I fondly named, “Little Junius.”
I stopped at Canseco’s Thursday night for incidentals and passed the meat section; there was a thick, beautiful rib eye steak with a price that must have been a mistake. I bought it, seasoned and tenderized it for two nights; yesterday afternoon I seared it in Mom’s cast iron skilled stove top, then put the steak, skillet and all in the oven and cooked to medium rare. Today at breakfast, I told the two foodies I was with about it, and that watching carbs I had also been able to get bleu cheese dressing and Romaine lettuce. Charlene said, when you have dinner tonight, you ought to slice that steak and put it on top of the Romaine and bleu cheese. Brilliant idea, and, being so full from breakfast, if I ever eat again today, that’s exactly what I am going to do.
Stopped by Perino’s because all of my plants are dead except the scheflerra, salmon colored geranium, and of all things, the mint. As I walked in the cold drizzle, the entrance was filled with delphinium blooming in pots. Beautiful. So, I bought some pansies, marigolds, one fuchsia and one red orange impatien, the pansies are purple and gold, and purple; I planted the two small impatiens together in the purple pot on the back porch. I love those colors in a garden, it’s what I call, “Chiclets” colors. I’m afraid, Ralph, the Atomic Pumpkin, has finally bought it, but I haven’t gotten rid of him on the off chance I see little sprouts of something.
This was a fun morning.
Don’t know why, but this inexplicable sense of sadness came over me about twenty or more minutes ago. I hope nothing is wrong. I hate to feel this way. It’s very warm and bright and windy outside, maybe I should go back out, or cook to perk up my spirits.
May be I’ll think of something funny to put here such as laughing at what you might have done this morning early. TCM showed, “Women in Love,” very early as they are wont to do when the subject is very adult. I caught almost all of it sipping my coffee in the dark, never saw it before, and it is really a fine, fine film. Although I had read years ago there was a nude wrestling scene between Alan Bates and Oliver Reed that never made it to American audiences, TCM had it here in all its “”glory.” What made me laugh, and makes me smile now is the thought that popped into my head at the time that had you been watching it with me, you would have no doubt double blindfolded me until it was over. I’m smiling now at what you might be thinking now as you read this. Alan Bates seemed to hang back in the shadows but not so much Oliver Reed. Both gone now. What can I say to reassure you–well, Sweetheart, my 24-year-old telly isn’t HDTV; my vision isn’t what it used to be and I have cataracts, so while I may get the general idea, the details aren’t so clear! Whatever happened to Glenda Jackson?
Bad weather, lots of rain. A rainy Friday evening. Riches.
Do you happen to remember, by any chance, that episode years ago of, “The Young Riders” that we watched, when that pretty blonde lady who cooked for the Pony Expressers had to ride away to take care of something, or escape something–don’t remember what. She was a widow, and she rode into the desert and camped there overnight by firelight. It was a glorious night, the desert night filled with stars, and the firelight glowing, and she looked at the stars and spoke to her dead husband dreamily, saying, Oh, we could have gotten into a lot of trouble on a night such as this…
This morning was so nice, before the sun rose, although it may have been up from your end. Snuggling under Earl’s quilt in the recliner, I could have sworn someone was watching the news with me, someone knew I was about to nod off again. Do you know what your expression reminds me of these days–Rudolph Valentino in , “The Sheik.” Just one scene towards the end. The woman he has abducted has fallen in love with him but hasn’t admitted it; there is a scene when she is told he has come to some harm, and she, not knowing he is watching her out of her sight, screams his name, “Ahmed!” face twisted in horror. Does he rush out to reassure her he is all right. Of course not. He stays where he is and this little knowing smile comes over his face, pleased as Punch, self-satisfied, it’s an expression that says, “she loves me.” I’ll stop at smug, because it is not that, but if you ever queue up that scene, perhaps you’ll understand what I mean.
Just do it.