Two of the finest people I have ever known, were married at the home of her parents. The fashion of marrying from home seems to have passed, but it was quite common in the 1930’s. And modern prophets have stated that if one is unable to be sealed to one’s beloved in the temple, the next most sacred place for a marriage to begin is in a parental home.
Dad passed away in 1990; Mom followed in 1997. They left my sister and me a legacy of hard work, unspoken faith, and personal integrity. Truly, the salt of the earth.
I think this year ahead of us is going to be a wonderful adventure. My sister and her hubby will observe their golden wedding anniversary this summer. Fifty years! [I will have to be a very old woman in order to achieve that in my own life, though if Brother Right waltzes up the day after LittleBit graduates, we might have a fair shot at 40 years.]
As I’ve said, I don’t make resolutions, but I do set goals. I want a garden this year, a very small one, something along the order of two tomato plants in planters [with casters in case I move], a small patch of shallots, and a few pots of herbs. At the end of the year I want to see bottles of homemade tomato sauce or diced tomatoes or tomato paste glowing on a shelf in my pantry, one for every ten days or so. Maybe a jar a week?
One of the women in my office is a prolific gardener. She will be a fabulous resource. And I’ll pick up a copy of “Texas Gardener” next time I’m at the bookstore. Next month I’ll get the tomato cages and put them on my patio, along with bags of potting soil. And I’ll need to figure out a way to prevent Charlie, the vagrant cat that keeps trying to get into our apartment, from using my garden as a litterbox.
My yearly bonus should come along just in time for me to pick up a pressure canner. And, I’m hoping, a spinning wheel, but maybe that is better saved until next year.
Here’s a return-and-report on the most recent cooking adventures: the yellow split pea soup which I made on Saturday, is so-so. I think it would be better with a potato diced up into it. As I have another portion chilling in the fridge, I’ll have an opportunity to test that theory in the near future.
The second steelhead fillet, which I nuked with a bit of lemon juice in some baking parchment, crumbled into a storage container, and covered with my first successful risotto, made a charming and unconventional breakfast this morning. I’m sure that when LittleBit wakes up and comes out here, she will say that this place stinks of fish.
The recipe called for basmati, but I had some Arborio in my food storage. I simmered it in the leftover clam juice [bought for the pomegranate vinaigrette that went with the sea bass last week] and a cup of white cooking wine, and then water to make up the rest of the liquid. I have another cup and a half of risotto in the fridge, and I don’t know if I can make myself wait another day or two to polish it off. That one was a definite winner!
On Friday we celebrated the end of driver’s education with a trip to the kolache man. LittleBit snagged a pint of whole milk to wash down her cinnamon roll and then forgot it when I dropped her off near the house on my way to the office. I didn’t notice until I got in the car that night. It was quite chilly all day, so the milk was still cold if not particularly appetizing. I used most of it to bake a batch of cornmeal muffins and will bury it in more baking sometime today. I fancy a pan of gingerbread.
Second food-storage goal for 2008: a year’s supply of rice in various forms. I need long-grain for the occasional bowl of fried rice, Arborio for more of this yummy risotto, basmati or Texmati for everyday eating. [Have you ever sniffed a freshly-opened container of basmati rice? Heaven!] I like rice, but LittleBit’s not overly fond of it, so I foresee that rice consumption will increase once the nest empties.
As for the dance last night? I had so much fun! I would say that the Fun Quotient was right up there where it was two or three years ago, before the spate of Unfortunate Brethren, not to mention various broken or dysfunctional body parts. The music was *excellent*, though the guy who’s been doing the DJ’ing in recent months kept hovering about and offering suggestions. I taught three sisters the one line-dance that I know, and I danced about twice as much as I did last time, and I left after my customary East Coast Swing with Brother Yummy, taking my Ray Charles CD for the drive home.
Since I left around 11:30, I drove back in time to catch two sets of fireworks: one [I think] at the racetrack and another at the ballpark. What a great start for a new year!
I’m still swatching the red yarn for Eleanora, so I’ve missed the deadline for the December sock of the month at Sock Knitters Anonymous on Ravelry. But I met another knitter at the dance last night and gave her the URLs for Ravelry and my blog. And when I pulled the needle out of my 000 envelope, I found that it was my missing 0. So, one mystery solved and another to puzzle out. I scrunched the Stripedy sock down onto the cable of my 00 needle and am knitting the swatch back and forth on the ends. About 20 more rows to go before I put in a purl bump and switch to the 000 needle, assuming I can find it.
I was having some difficulty accessing the PDF’s for the Spring Shawl Surprice [sic] KAL, but suddenly I can open and save them. Weird. I’m not casting on yet, because I don’t think that I have quite enough of the KnitPicks alpaca laceweight. As I remarked to Tinks, for me it's less important to be knitting along in lockstep with my sisters of the wool, than it is to be knitting, period. I'm off to finish swatching Eleanora, and to make some progress on the socks that are already on the needles.
I also really, really need to find my check blanks, because the rent is due today.
Happy Knitting Year, everybody!
- Four years into widowhood, after one year of incredible happiness and nearly 14 years of single blessedness. Have given up perfect manicures and pretty hands in order to resume playing the soprano recorder and to see if I can figure out how to play bluegrass banjo. Singing in the shower. Still really, *really* love to knit!