Well, hello , Darlin’ did you think I had forgotten about you? It’s Holy Saturday, and a good, good Holy Saturday it is. Swept, wiped, mopped, cleaned, cooked, cheered p a depressed neighbor, shopped, showered with ginger and clay, painted my tootsies Robin’s Egg Blue, and sat down about one hour ago with an icy glass of Pinot Grigio to trim the green beans for tomorrow, that I will attempt to do as Mom did–smother them down with seasoning ham, onions, red potatoes and pot liquor, always on Easter. Therapeutic work: I did this as I am watching episodes of, “The Tudors,” in Henry’s later years, and stopped a minute to start cooking the artichokes that are steaming right now stuffed with garlic. Going to fix chicken some way tomorrow, haven’t decided how, that and roasted asparagus, a truly Easter meal…also have some lamb shoulder, hmm, maybe. This has been a Holy Saturday redolent of old…housework,hand washed some of my new clothes, decided to wear the black flower-sprigged skirt with a black tee to church tomorrow, and found some delicate, yet dangling pinkish earrings that don’t kill my bad ear. Watching the episode of, “The Tudors,” where Henry meets Anne of Cleeves…”I like her not!” Yes, Jonathan Rhys Myers…we could have had a kid like that. Of all things, the color pink has been drawing me…I’m not a pink person but there was a time when it did…a soft time, but of all things, I bought pink nail polish at Majoria’s for Easter today for my hands…but the tootsies remain blue! Happy Holy Saturday! Everything smells of lavender in here. It was a beautiful spring day, clear, sunny but cool enough to have a bit of a bite. Since I got Marie, I tend to drive around Metairie with the passenger and driver’s windows down…got what a breeze! But it wreaks havoc with ze hair. Well, back to my vino, The Tudors, and to check my artichokes. It’s a good evening, Darlin’.
Talk about earrings. Just watched Shannon Bream host Special Report on Fox, and she wore a simple black dress with the most gorgeous green Jade earrings. I am so jealous of those earrings. Like my mother, I always adored green with black! Bream looked lovely, simple and elegant. The earrings G’s were dangling, so lovely.
I never got into a food fight with my older brother, probably because we both knew we’d be dead in the water, but I do recall a family story about my mother and her sister, Colleen, aka Aunt Cal. They were two years apart in age, Mom being the older, and when they were in their teens, Mom had washed her hair and set it with Aunt Cal’s bobby pins while Aunt Cal was out. Mom was sitting at the kitchen table, they were living with Uncle Alec and Aunt Emma at the time, helping to make potato salad. Aunt Cal got so infuriated that Mom has used her pins that she began tearing them straight out of Mom’s hair, yelling and screaming. Mom calmly let her finish tearing out the pins, and as Aunt Cal was screaming, reached into the open mayonnaise jar used for the potato salad, scooped up a handful and smeared Aunt Cal’s face with it from top to bottom. Aunt Cal stopped screaming and just stood there, and sweet old Uncle Alec told her in his rich Cajun accent,” uh-huh, uh-huh, you see what you get for being so mean and selfish.” Now, my older brother, Tim, could be very free with your possessions, but never touch his. He had moved back home when we were both in our 20’s and one day I passed his room when he wasn’t there and saw a book of poems on his desk. Never could resist a book, so I sat for about five minutes at his desk and read a couple of poems and left the book on the desk, but apparently, not at the same angle he had left it. When he got home that evening, he saw the book at the oddish angle and started screaming at me demanding if I had opened the book. I told him yeah, and he raged about never touching his things for the next ten minutes and didn’t talk to me for days. A scene which prompted my mother to say then, and for years afterward, “what’s Tim’s is Tim’s, and what’s yours is Tim’s.” I suppose we’ve always had a troubled relationship!
As the Vidalia pie baked, I washed the juicer parts, read the instructions, got it assembled, peeled and that cahrrots and went to town. It is positively adorable the way the juice comes out of the little spigot into the glass. I used about four huge cahrrots and got 8 ounces of juice; I then cut up about five Roma tomatoes and one green onion, (shallot) and juiced that for about another 8 ounces. Since the tomatoes and cahrrot were at room temp when I started, I placed the glasses in the freezer for about 20 minutes to chill. This was perfectly delicious. I loved the sweetness of the cahrrot juice, the color. Then I tasted the tomato concoction, and I loved this even more–the fresh taste of the tomatoes mingled with the green onion, I can’t tell you how delicious it was except that it made me think I was drinking a garden, so fresh was it. Showered in ginger and clay, Ate some of the Vidalia pie and fell sound asleep in the recliner for nearly two hour and awakened nearly half an hour ago. Tomorrow I hope I have more energy to tackle some things in here. I’m so glad I bought this juicer and I thank you for the inspiration! I wonder what ginger juice from ginger root would taste like?
I have been listening to the services on the radio since yesterday, for Holy Thursday, and for today; absolutely beautiful. I don’t know that I will make it today for the 3PM service; I have that Saturday funk on a Friday, and ran some errands this morning to come home wanting to crash. But not before I make Good Friday meatless fare: this will be a Vidalia onion pie Good Friday and I have parsley tablets in case someone wants to kiss me. Truth to tell, I wasn’t going to go out, but someone, a perfect creep, motivated me when he cried out about his cahrrot juice. It’s been kicking around my mind for sometime now that I want to get either a blender, or a pulse, because of fresh fruit and veggies–then I realized a juicer would be perfect. Went down the River Road to Walmart, that temple for the poor according to JLB ( do you know, since I realized what he did, I’ve never picked up another of his books to read when I used to await them eagerly every year; can’t even see his picture without going into complete disgust.) I did buy a Black and Decker juicer, a humongous pack of cahrrots, tomatoes because I realize I can also now make my own tomato juice something I can no longer drink because of the sodium in commercial brands. This is going to be fun; already I’m considering making a copper penny kind of juice–a little green onion, cahrrots and tomatoes…my mouth is watering, I have to read the instructions and set it up. While at Walmart, since they sell Starbucks coffee at nearly $5.00 less than Joe W’s, I got two packs for the price of one–French Roast and Morning Joe. I love a bargain. Also got two Blue Hyacinth candles one of which I lit immediately when I got home. What a bad influence you are on me.
I could probably use some dressmaking advice skills. I had my eye on a flounced crinkle gauze skirt that came in the most beautiful shade of purple, and one in turquoise. I felt they were overpriced; then one day, I saw they were now $12.00 each! I flew online to see that the only size remaining was 5X; the highest of the fat ladies sizes. Nevertheless, I ordered the purple and the blue. When they arrived, I tried them on, and to my relief, both of them immediately fell to the floor. However, I pulled the waist in to wear it fit me, and realized I could stitch a little flat flap in the back where the skirts would hang straight. I’m not much with a needle, but I’m going to give this a try. Necessity is the mother of invention. Need to paint my tootsies Robin’s egg blue for spring because it is definitely sandal weather. Some boho skirts I ordered for spring and summer arrived and I love them. All maxi, one is black gauze printed with delicate sprigs of green that bears small pink and yellow blossoms; another is paisley in shades of red, blue, green; another is an old-fashioned cream and dark blue flowered print–the flowers are small and blue on the cream background. Two pairs of linen slacks-one olive and one khaki, and Tees in red; Alpine blue; black; sea glass blue, turquoise, punch pink and pale pink. Skechers boho sandals that last summer supported my back and legs, so I got more this year, funky little things for my tiny feet. Only problem with this summer’s wardrobe is that I had to pass up some of the most gorgeous dangling earrings because that tear on my ear lobe is slow to heal and I have to wear very light earrings. I know this if fascinating talk for you. Heck, I may just have that ear re-pierced. It’s always bothered me from time to time–it’s the one where the nurse went in crooked with the needle, in the primitive days when they stretched your ear lobe over cork and drove a darning needle into to pierce it. The Dark Ages.
Well, to the Vidalia pie, juicer instructions and peeling lots of cahrrots.
All right, this truly made my day. Flapping the newspaper made me laugh out loud.
How could anybody get sad making this movie, unless it was they were living something they really wanted to live while doing it, and then had to face what they thought was reality?
It rained all day yesterday on Holy Thursday. Awakened at 3:30 AM this morning, Good Friday, delighted to see it had also rained in the early morning hours. At least that is some rain on Good Friday. It always rained every year on Good Friday, but stopped in the 90’s…maybe now, because there was some rain, things will get on track? Not supposed to rain the rest of the day, but, please God, send rain.
I can feel you smiling now just like Ahmed!
I neglected to say in my post of this morning that Ayn Rand’s, “The Fountainhead” also has one of the most passionate, intricate, complicated, down to the bones of your soul in love, love story threading, I said, threading, its way throughout the entire book. It’s between the complicated and beautiful Dominique Francon and Howard Roark. I re- read this book again twenty years ago and the telling of this love story nearly cracked a strong resolve I had undertaken of self-preservation. Feminists have since and even back then clawed Rand’s eyes out because of the “rape” of Dominique by Roark. The term “rape” in this matter is quite debatable. I don’t see how anybody with a sense of romance, love, etc., couldn’t really see that scene in its true light. And believe me, you can’t get as anti-rape as myself. If anything, and I cringe at using a cliche to apply to a book of this quality, but if anything depicted the adage, the course of true love never runs smoothly, it is this story in a brutal, heart wrenching, unsentimental way, and it’s one character who throws one monkey wrench after another into the works, and the other who stands by quietly, patiently, suffering and always forgiving. Good, good love story. In additional to all of its other fine assets.