We had lots of thunder again tonight and only a brief gentle rain. Better than nothing, even to dampen things. Dallas is getting deluges, and we are getting gentle showers. I’d love something in between, but I am getting weary of non-productive thunder. So much promise, so little show.
We
have another kind of rain however—showers of pecans. The squirrels in the tree
above my patio are really busy. The eat half a nut and then throw it, sometimes
with pretty good force, on the patio—or the roof or wherever they land. I sat
here and listened to strange noises until I figured it out—took me a full day.
The cottage is full of noises anyway. Sometimes in the dark of night I think it’s
a critter banging into the walls, and occasionally it sounds like there’s one
in the bedroom with me or in my closet. I figure Sophie would sound the alert.
I’ve gotten kind of used to the noises, though like anyone who has ever lived
in an older house, I am ever on the alert for the sound of running water.
We’ve
had some domestic tragedies of late—the Burtons refrigerator quit, so now mine
is extraordinarily full. Thanks to Mary for reminding me that a full refrigerator
is an efficient one. I am less concerned about efficiency than I am being able
to find what I want. I keep trying to eat up leftovers and clear out some of
the icebox dishes, but I think they are procreating in there in the dark of the
night. This morning Christian came out to get eggs to cook for their breakfast,
and I accused him of taking my eggs. He patiently showed me which were his and
which mine. We started out confining their things to the top two shelves and
mine to the bottom, but that didn’t last long, and they are now comingled. I
really didn’t care if he ate my eggs, so I’m not sure why I jumped him. A
symptom of frustration, I guess.
Saturday,
he announced that there was a leak under the deck. Turned out that raw sewage
was flowing out of the crawl space under the house. It stopped, they decided it
was the older bathroom, and they wouldn’t use it since it was a holiday and our
plumber didn’t respond. But then Sunday, sewage flowed again, and no one had used
that front bathroom. Christian did say tonight that they had all showered, and
I know Jacob for one takes a long shower. My suggestion about few showers and
scant if any apparently fell on deaf ears. So I’ve left a message for Keith,
the wonderful plumber who has kept our house together for twenty-five years or
more.
As
usual, it was a weekend of good food. Saturday night was a Baylor game, and the
Burtons watched, with company. Christian grilled pork tenderloins and roasted
tiny diced potatoes; I contributed asparagus. I’m not fond of pork tenderloins,
usually too dry, but these were moist and flavorful, and the potatoes were
outstanding. Of course, he couldn’t quite tell me precisely what he did.
Last
night being Labor Day I staged a faux picnic. Memorial Day and the Fourth of
July don’t bring out the picnic idea in me, but Labor Day does. So I enlisted
Jean and Renee. After that I realized my picnic options were limited by my
cooking equipment. Couldn’t grill hamburgers, and skillet burgers didn’t seem quite
the same; wasn’t willing to go through the process of frying chicken, though I
honestly did consider it. In the end, I steamed hot dogs over kraut, bought
some potato salad (how unlike me!), and made a spinach casserole with cream
cheese and Pecorino (maybe the best thing about the meal). Jean brought a crudities
platter and deviled eggs, and Renee brought some faux madeleines that were cake
on top and brownie on the bottom. We feasted, and today I had the best lunch
leftovers.
And
tonight, we ordered in—Asian. We haven’t done that in forever, and I loved it.
I grew up in a household where you never ordered in, and you never had what was
then Chinese food. I didn’t know about all those little white cartons, but my
ex-husband did. His mother talked about going to eat at the Chinks, which
offended me because our third child is half Chinese. “Can’t we teach her a new
word?” I asked. But tonight I enjoyed all of it, though I had forgotten how
rich it can be. We had crab Rangoon and cashew chicken and chicken fried rice
and a chicken I couldn’t identify but it was good.
My sons
used to have a beloved Boy Scout counselor who, after a big dinner, would chant,
“I am full enough!” That’s how I feel tonight.
And so
back to regular workdays. Have a good week, everyone.
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