Yoga, cooking to nostalgic music, and back to school

My recumbent exercise bike is off its course. I finally reset all the settings--time, distance, etc.--but when I peddle it shoots up to the highest resistance, way beyond my capabilities. I've called the company, and they said I need to check the voltage, so I'm waiting for some kind soul with a voltimeter (is that the word?) to come along. Meantime, every day for over a week, I've been doing yoga, and I'm glad to be back at it, finding myself more confident about my yoga--and, interestingly, more confident in life. I don't know if it's the yoga or the meditationa afterward (which turns into prayer for me). But I frequently wake up a bit depressed and have to get going before, as one friend said, I get my happy on. But this morning I woke up cheerful, ready to get on with the day. And when I took a nap, I nearly leapt out of bed to do my yoga and then cook, feeling enthusiastic about all of it.
Tonight I was cooking in preparation for happy hour guests tomorrow and a happy hour gaggle of cookbook contributors on Monday night. I made a faux pimiento cheese--with chopped sun-dried tomatoes instead of pimientoes (of which I'm not overly fond) and added a bit of cayenne to the recipe, because that's how I make pimiento cheese. Then I hard-boiled eggs for deviled eggs and made a sardine spread for tomorrow night. During all this, a paid advertisement came on for a CD of all the golden oldies from the '60s and of course they played snatches of songs--"Because of You," "You Belong to Me," "No, No, Not much," "The Twelfth of Never," some Elvis pieces, etc. All were enhanced versions of recordings by the original artists. I had a wonderful time. I usually enjoy cooking anyway, but this added a new dimension. Then I put a piece of salmon in a pie plate, sprinkled it with salt and pepper, surrounded it with white wine, and baked it while I sauteed some zucchini. Great dinner.
School starts Monday for many Texas schools. For me, this has dual significance: first and foremost, my grandkids go back to school. Maddie will be entering middle school (how did she get so old?) and I have this fearful feeling of sending her out into the big world, after the sheltered environment of an elementary school almost across the street from her house; Edie will be in second grade (growing so fast) and Sawyer and Morgan will both enter kindergarten--a milestone in their lives. I haven't had a report on Morgan, but Sawyer found he will have a man for a teacher and is much excited. My hat's off to men who teach those younger kids. The remaining kids will be in day care, but Jacob has been promoted to the four-year-old class. When I asked him about it, he said, "Yeah, I go upstairs now." That's his idea of being promoted.
But school starting has another, more immediate effect on my life. I live across from an elementary school. (After I bought this house, 16 years ago, a good friend said she would never live across from a school--thanks for telling me too late.) Actually I love the house, and it shouldn't be such a problem now that I don't have to rush out the door and driveway at eight, but parents dropping their darlings off are unbelievably rude and thoughtless--they park across my driveway (I once almost hit a kid and another time almost hit a car because when I looked it wasn't there and then suddenly as I backed down the drive, there it was!). They also let their kids out in the middle of the street, which is unbelievably dangerous. The other night the school had an open house, and someone had stopped across my driveway to let his family out just when a friend came to pick me up. Every year, my neighborhood sighs and complains, but it never seems to help. I know the school tries to remind parents, but I think our neighborhood policeman needs to be on the scene. There, rant finished.

Cooking My Way through the Day

Yesterday I thought I was so smart. I made my barbecue sauce, set the table for eight, and just before I went to bed put a chuck roast in the crockpot, covered it with barbecue sauce,and let it cook all night, thinking I would have very little to do in the morning. Hah! Dealing with the barbecue took a lot of time--you know how recipes say to let 4 cups cook down to one cup and indicate it will take ten minutes. Hogwash! Took the better part of an hour! And then I had to shred the meat, combine the rest of the barbecue sauce, pour part of it, carefully measured over the meat and put it all in the fridge. Then came the bean salad which reqauired lots of  chopping--tomatoes, onions, grated cheese, etc. And I forgot I planned to make cucumber salad, so I peeled and sliced the cucumbers and let them soak in salted water, made the sour cream dressing, and went, gratefully, to eat my lunch.  By that time I had spent almost two hours in the kitchen, and I figured I'd count that as moderate housework for WeightWatchers points--after all I was on my feet, and I was tired. Must mean something.
But dinner was a snap to put together at the last minute--put the meat in a low oven to warm, make the onion dip, open the potato chips, heat the barbecue sauce in the microwave, chop lettuce and avocado into the salad (Jordan and Elizabeth helped). We were celebrating Elizabeth's birthday, a milestone one at 40 and she was well aware of it and appreciative of where she is at that age, as well she deserves to be. We were also belatedly celebrating Jay's birthday (40 plus some) of a couple of weeks ago. The barbecue sandwiches were delicious, if I do say so, and Jordan made a wonderful Bundt cake. A jolly evening. Christian, bless him, had all the dinner dishes in the dishwasher by the time we cleared the table and put the cake on. And Jacob was absolutely charming all evening. Weldon brought him superheroes comic books and figures (Weldon's always been a comic book collector and source of knowledge and now his new job puts him right in that field). He may just be Jacob's best new friend.
Now I'm tired and glad tomorrow is a long day at home. And look at the good leftovers I have! One thing I don't like about aging is that I can't cook straight through a day--I have to take tiny breaks to rest my back. But I still spent a lot of time in the kitchen today, and that's a joy to me.
And, no, I didn't forget my recent resolve not to let Weight Watchers rule my life--I loved the whole meal and ate heartily.

Eating my way through the day

That's literally what I did--food was the highlight of my day, and yet I'm proud to say I stayed under my allotted 19 points by Weight Watchers (okay, I didn't know how to figure the pecan crust on the halibut).
Jeannie and I had lunch at Nonna Tata, where I had braseola, which I love. It's the beef version of prosciutto and comes dressed in olve oil and lemon with shaved grana cheese--and a good vinegar-based potato salad on the side. Jeannie had spaghetti puttanesca, which I like a lot but is too spicy there for me--I have to make my own. It was a combination thank you for my party and happy birthday luncheon for Jeannie.
Tonight Betty and I went to Ellerbe's, a new restaurant attractively carved out of an old gas station. The patio seating is under the roof of the old drive-through part where gas pumps once were and is beautifully landscaped. Although it looked like it could rain, it didn't, and it was a pleasant patio evening. The restaurant has only been open three days, but they already have repeat customers. We split an entree as we often do--pecan-crusted halibut with greens (maybe collard?) and risotto, and it was wonderful, the fish moist and yet flaky, the crust thin and just enough to be pleasant, the risotto creamy and delicious. I often skip risotto because of the clories but this was a small helping by the time we split and irresisitibly good. Passed on appetizers and dessert. Ellerbe's should do well in our neighborhood which sprouts new and exciting restaurants all the time, but it is pricey. Lunch entrees range around ten dollars; tonight we had the cheapest chardonnay on the menu, Wild Horse at nine dollars a glass. The fish was twenty-six dollars. I really wanted the lamb chops but Betty didn't want to split that, and I didn't want to pay thirty-one dollars for an entree, even though it would feed me for two nights. We won't go back too often, but we'll go back!
So now I'm going to spend my evening reading The Sharper Your Knife, the Less You Cry, about a young woman's experience at Le Cordon Bleu.