As I write this, the gods have begun bowling in the sky. All day we’ve heard predictions of severe storms tonight, with the possible threat of hail and tornadoes. Jordan planned for us to eat early, because Christian was going to grill and didn’t want to be standing over the grill in the rain. But the prediction moved a little bit later, and we ate as usual about seven-fifteen. So far, the thunder has not brought rain, but I am hopeful. Jacob had a golf tournament today, and I am thankful the weather held off until that was over.
After the luxurious meal
yesterday, we had burgers tonight. But not just any burgers---lamb. I mentioned
to Jordan tonight that I now have four or five recipes for lamb burgers, and I
haven’t kept track of which ones we liked best. But tonight’s version had two
Tbsp. of Worcestershire and were delicious. And that marked a culinary
milestone for me: I actually used up a bottle of Lea & Perrin’s
Worcestershire (is there any other label worth using?) and had to open the new
one waiting in my pantry. It made me think of that old saw about a housewife
will never use up a bottle of Tabasco. Times have changed, and I guess for a
while cooks, male and female, went through Siracha at a rapid rate, but it
seems to have fallen out of favor now. At any rate, I’m going to put five stars
on tonight’s recipe. And I have one and a half burgers for lunches this week.
Yesterday’s meal—and a couple
of mid-day glasses of wine—sent me to napping, but when I woke up I surprised
myself by working at my desk for five straight hours. I drafted a newsletter,
wrote a blog, and finished the book I was reading to the point I was ready to
review it and move on. It is One Way Back, Christina Blasey-Ford’s
memoir of her experience testifying at the confirmation hearings for
then-SCOTUS nominee Brett Kavanaugh. Of necessity in telling her story,
Blasey-Ford delves back into her high school years when his assault on her
happened. When Kavanaugh’s nomination became public, she thought she could just
tell someone her story and that would be it, but of course the whole thing
snowballed. Ultimately, at great personal cost (she still needs security
details) she exposed what Kavanaugh did to her as a high school student, but
more than that what kind of man he is today—a whining, sniveling, angry man who
was nonetheless confirmed to a lifetime appointment on our highest court. I
agree with her in uncertainty that the initial incident warranted the weight it
was given—I suspect such happens in homes all over America all the time. But
the revelation of his beer-loving character today was significant, and I
applaud Blasey-Ford. A PS; she is a surfer, and the phrase, “One way
back,” is surfing terminology. It’s a good book, and I recommend it.
Now it is raining—steady,
fairly hard but not destructive.
I’ve spent some time today
searching for the right new dog—it’s a good cure for missing Sophie, and I hope
she would understand. Tonight, with the thunder, I remember how scared she
always was, curling up right by me, and when I was cooking, I remembered how
she stationed herself right by me in my tiny kitchen lest I drop a morsel. The
dog that interests me is named Oreo (can you change a rescue dog’s name?). He
is an Aussie mix, crate trained, housebroken, a true gentleman who loves to
cuddle (don’t all gentlemen?). I have asked how to arrange a meet-and-greet,
and I think Jordan and Christian are with me on this one. I’ve seen several
dogs online that entice me, but many rescues, especially Aussies, stress that
they are wary in new circumstances and, too often, afraid of men. I’ve got two
men here—Christian and Jacob—who are ready to love a new dog. It’s called
moving on.
Already the rain has slowed,
but I expect we’re in for a spell of it. I hope it keeps up until I go to bed,
so I can lie in bed, cozy and comfortable, and listen to the thunder.
Stay safe, everyone.
