Skip to main content

In anticipation of many busy days ahead, I want to write something - anything - for the meanwhile. There is not much to tell at the moment, which is odd, since I feel as though much has happened. Like as not, the feeling is more from the books and movies I've been watching than the actual state of things. Life is decidedly simple.

Tomorrow will be my first day working a good number of hours. That is, I might actually be earning enough to feed myself as well as pay off the creditors. Straight after work on Wednesday, I'll be driving to Long Beach to spend about 24 hours with my parents. I don't think I'll be there in time to serve Thanksgiving dinner to the homeless (they're serving it a night early, then a big breakfast the next morning), but there will be volunteers enough for that. Mom and I will wear our cornacopihats while making pumpkin pie and sneaking tastes of cranberry sauce. Were more people coming, I'd make the cranberry sauce Nick made last year in Edinburgh. It doesn't quite feel a year ago, but so time runs. The dish was incredible. Though I'll not be tasting it this season, I'll copy down the recipe all the same, for any who care to try it:

Nick's Cranberry Sauce
Dissolve 1 cup sugar in 1 cup boiling water. Reduce heat to simmer. Add the following ingredients:
1 (12 oz) package cranberries
1 orange, peeled and pureed
1 apple, peeled and diced
1 pear, peeled and diced
1 cup minced fruit, chopped
1 cup pecans, chopped
1/2 tsp salt
1 tsp cinnamon
1/2 tsp nutmeg
Simmer for about 30 minutes, until cranberries pop. Cool and serve.

I can assure you, it's better than the stuff in the cans. And I love the stuff in the cans. The little metalic grooves, the slippery way it ejects onto the platter, the silver of the spoon against the burgundy gel...

ah, Thanksgiving!

I'll get back to the desert sometime Thursday night, where Amanda will meet me on her way back from Minnesota. I think she's starting the long drive tomorrow morning. When I return from work on Friday, doubtless weary to the bone but of good cheer, my friend Martin will also appear on my doorstep after a less dramatic but still noteworthy drive from Arizona. I have not seen Martin in a year and a half - on the deck of the Midway. I am debating between putting him to work finishing the porch cover in the backyard (our own private Scottish monument) and actually entertaining him. Maybe he'll be wanting a wee nap as much as I will. :) In short, I will probably be busy till Monday. And since I've just told all I intend to do between now and then, there may not be much more to add when the freedom does come.

Comments

  1. You know you must say hi to Martin for me, and annoy him as much as possible.

    ReplyDelete
  2. Will do. And of course, I'll blame it all on you. Though, if he has to plunge a toilet while he's here, I don't think I'll be able to avoid the blame...

    ReplyDelete
  3. I totally know what you mean about the ejecting of the cranberry sauce and the ridges. I don't like the taste of cranberry sauce but I always liked taking it out of the can. :-)

    ReplyDelete

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Can someone please explain why my Quicktime isn't working? Anyone with prophetic awareness of my little Atlas, none so old but recently behaving so?
because you were all wondering what I'm writing my dissertation on, here's a brief synopsis of my 'research context': When James Macpherson published his Fragments of Ancient Poetry in 1760, he went to great lengths to make the Fragments appear to be authentic remains of an ancient, heroic oral tradition. His reasons for this were largely political, and as such, influenced the content of the epics themselves. As an attempt to establish a particularly Scottish identity, the poems were quite effective. However, to do so required both a simplification and a manipulation of traditional mythology. Stripped of anagogical significance, the Ossian epics more or less represented an Enlightenment version of history, tradition, and mythic heritage. The stories themselves were changed by their very purpose and in turn changed the manner of representing myth in future narratives. Moreover, the emphasis on the Ossian epics as authentic tales from the past, as ‘fragments,’ served...
Kathryn, do NOT be jealous of me going to the opera. It was weird. They were wearing these bulky animal costumes and clonking boots which might have been okay except that their footsteps drowned out the sound of the orchestra (Oh look! A band!). The plot was supposed to be about the circle of life or something deep, but it really seemed to be more about animals getting it on. It was an opera, though, so plot really shouldn't matter as long as the music is good. It wasn't. I mean, it wasn't BAD - but most of the singing was monotonous, the orchestration was unremarkable, and I hope to heaven no one from the production reads this. It would be so disheartening! They were all skillful - I just wasn't interested in the piece itself. But then, I have only ever seen very classical sorts of pieces. The Marriage of Figaro. Samson and Delilah. And I was listening to Puccini before leaving the house! What do you do? But then again, I was distracted by my seating companion. Five so...