We tend to think the new year starts on January 1, but it really doesn’t, you know. Things get down and dirty on the first Monday after that, so today is the day. Adults go back to work, kids go back to school. I think the picture above is an image that will carry me cheerfully through this coming year—one happy guy. That’s my fifteen-year-old grandson, who plays guitar and is lead singer in a small band. Look them up on YouTube: CRVNCH. Not my kind of music (they play hard rock), but I love it because he’s so good at what he does and so (mostly) happy about it. I gave him that shirt for Christmas, because it seemed to me it spoke for him. It says "I may look like I'm listening to you, but in my head I'm playing my guitar."
Love the shirt, love the kid.
Today things are about as normal as they’re going to get, what with Australia on fire and the manchild in the White House having brought us to the brink of a war no one wants. Still, we all go about our daily chores as if the world were not in chaos. Over the weekend, I started new files for 2020—bills paid, etc.—and put the 2019 files aside for the awful chore of compiling tax information for the accountant. No use in rushing these things.
I keep a pottery container (don’t know how to describe it any other way—it’s sort of a free form shape) on my desk for important pending papers. It has sentimental value, because Winston gave it to me—he was the children’s adopted uncle, called me his sister, and had an enormous impact on all of us until he died of AIDS in the early 1990s. Anyway, Winston‘s catch-all frequently gets out of hand, stuffed with papers that threaten to fly everywhere (sort of reminds me of him), So this weekend I went through it, found all sorts of things that should go elsewhere—a bunch of family pictures, some money that should go to the grandkids (shhh! Don’t tell them! I’ll get it to them, just have to add a bit). Of course I couldn’t think of where to put the things that belong
And the “to do” stack on my desk was in a neat pile until this morning when I sat down and began to plow through it. I uncovered “busy-ness” details to be dealt with—an invoice to check on, a call to a lawyer, photo credit to be checked, and so on.. All those odds and ends—“brushfires” a friend calls them—eat into your time.
So now I’m off to bake the chocolate chip bars Jordan has particularly requested. She keeps calling them brownies, but they’re not brown. The recipe, from the original Kimball Cookbook, makes two 9x13 pans—we’ll be eating chocolate chips for a long time. Good thing I got a cookie jar for Christmas.
Last night I made another family favorite—Sloppy Joe. There’s a story behind it, and it may show up in my Gourmet on a Hot Plate blog on Thursday. That’s another step in getting back to routine—I’ve let that blog go untouched too long.
My new cookie jar