Off to the Doctor

I am too smart for my own britches, so it is scary to go to the doctor.

I can buffalo with the best of them.

It is scary to have them say, "Okay, I know you don't take the flu shot."

"OK, sounds like you had a bad reaction to tetanus, so we'll skip that order."

It's scary to have the doctor kowtow to my demands. But--that's the way I am.  Once in a while I bow to a wish of his, so he doesn't think I am completely arbitrarily arbitrary.

Today, we decided that I am not that badly off.  But I have to have the blood panel next week on a fasting morning, and then--he'll be in the catbird seat. We'll see who wins that one.

He may be right. But I have to win.  A scary position to be in, for someone who did not get her medical degree.  In the meantime, it's curcumin and resveratrol and krill oil, baby aspirin, and Vits. B, C,D, and cal-ci-um.  Try to dodge big pharma. If I can. YAZZYBEL

Spirit

I wondered today what the difference is between myth and mythos.  Figured that mythos is just a fancy way of saying the same thing. Got no definitive answers from the Google, but one article that came up said that "myth" is the words and "mythos" is the whole thing about Belief. And ritual is the acting-out of mythos.

All that mixed up thinking (on my part) is a carryover from the pubescent moment when my mind took a detour.  It's the same reason that I could not learn algebra, presented for the first time at about that same age.  Too bad it didn't all work out better. I would be one smarter woman.

But Spirit, as well as mind, lay back untapped and quiescent ever since that time too, until a gradual sort of awakening in my 30's lifted me out of the quagmire of the quotidian and gave me permission to intuit and feel and even think.  I still can't do algebra or any of its  followers.  But can do any number of other things, such as interpret dreams, for instance.  And if you can interpret dreams, you have a handle on much everyday behavior, I've found, as most people are operating in their sleep to a large extent anyway.

Jungian psychology gave me a large entree to the access of personal skills beyond the range of charm school or computer classes.  But I don't operate on Jungian psychology. It was an entree.  After you learn to swim you do not have to consult the manual when in the water.   I have been in the water for some goodly amount of time now.

I was going to write this post, when I sat down, about how to make a bowl of delicious instant gazpacho from scratch. So where did this posting come from? I can only think, directly from Spirit.  And now I can spend some time thinking about what Spirit  may have had  in mind. Or not..............YAZZYBEL

This and That

Good morning.

First, I must say something I have been postponing for some time. But it is going to happen this month, I hope. I expect my computer will be shut down for some time as we move things around.

There, I committed to it!

I plan to use the Library's computer if computer is down for any protracted period of time, but who knows how that will work out. Truth to tell, I get up at six (usually) and by the time Taterton comes out of his bed it is (as it now is) nearly two hours later.  The Library does not open for nearly two hours after that (if the funding is back in place, which it may not always be.)  So, I lose a lot of time.

That's not piano practice time either!  The house is quiet and there is no TV going, but--can't wake the sleeper as he needs his sleep.  I need sleep today too as I was cold last night and was restless. A nap today is prescribed by Dr. Me.

Today is Rosh Hoshana, or rather the beginning of it. You are supposed to dip apples in honey to give to your loved ones to wish them a sweet new year. Another interesting custom I read about is to take small pieces of bread, representing your offences against your neighbor(s), in your pocket. Go out to a river or moving body of water, guess a crick would do, and throw in your little crumbs of contrition.  If we were Jewish we would get to hear the shofar, which is blown on this holiday to mark the beginning of the High Holidays. As heard on Youtube, it is a moving presentation of sound, and sounds as if it has a real significance. Intention is everything.

To end this on a completely contrary and contradictive topic, I forgot to put on my favorite bacon recipe yesterday~so here it is.

Bacon and Water Chestnut Appetizers:

slices of thin bacon cut in 2
canned water chestnut slices
chicken livers cut in 2

This is a 1970's recipe, and so good.  Wrap water chestnut and chicken liver in piece of bacon, skewer with a toothpick, place on cooky sheet. Then place in hot oven for ten minutes, or under broiler. You may want to pre-cook the bacon a bit if it is very fatty. I can't stand raw bacon.

If you're averse to chicken livers, you may substitute a pit-less prune for the chicken liver. Still delicious. Be sure to cook until the bacon frills are pretty done, as in dry and light brown. No raw bacon, please. YAZZYBEL

What was I going to say about bacon?

Well, I skipped yesterday but that is the way of the world, sometimes.  We get involved.

Today I got to thinking about bacon. I used to love bacon. It was quite reliable in quality, as an American food item. Easily available in the supermarket, and always delicious.

Of late years, bacon has problems. I don't know why. Are the hogs genetically modified?  Surely not. But the bacon is certainly not what it was.  There's thin bacon, and there's thick bacon. I always went for the thin, and two minutes in the  microwave on a paper towel turned out two perfectly cooked slices.  A little longer in a skillet did even better for taste.  And best of all, a cooky sheet full of slices toasted up perfectly in a 400 degree oven and was oh so easy to do.

A few years ago, the uniformity, I almost could say, perfect uniformity of the slices was a given.  Nowadays, the size, thickness and type of thick or thin fat width varies a lot  in any given package. And that is in "major brand" bacon as well as second standard.Oh well, once you have cooked it up (and that is not as easy to do as it used to be ) , it still tastes good. 

We now are offered beautiful thick peppered bacon. In Texas I saw beautiful thick green- chilied peppered bacon.  All of this is good, if it doesnt curl up when you cook it.

I used to wonder that the Brits put "tomahto" on the breakfast plate along with the sausage, bacon and eggs. Then I remembered that my own Granny never served French toast without tomatoes. And no syrup!  Could it be that the British somehow figured out that that tomato on the plate and in the tummy helped to cancel out the very high fat load one's taking in with these fat-heavy breakfasts?  Or was it instinctive?  I saw a tomato sitting at hand this morning as I made Theo's two bacons and one egg.  Should I or should I not cut it and put it on the plate? Decided he would not want it.  So I'll broil it when I make him his hamboiger patty with cheese,and serve it then.  I myself had a toasted bread stick cut in half and toasted in the toaster. It was pretty good and has lasted me until lunch (now) when I shall have leftover Spanish Slaw (vinegar dressing) along with whatever protein I decide to consume. I used to love bacon but can only have it once a week now,on Sunday. Prescribed by myself. YAZZYBEL

A Midnight Visitor, Plus, More Katy Kornettes

Good morning early!

Theo will probably come out of that bedroom before I finish this, but maybe he will not. Let's try.

Last night in the middle of no-time, I was lying half awake with my eyes nearly open and looking toward the window, when I saw a Form amble by on the top of the bricks below the window.  A chill ran through my beleaguered form, as I fear mice and rats (though not morbidly, I hope.).  This one was too big to be a mouse and it was outside, and I was glad there is a screen on the window.

I got up to see what it was, but it had gone. I went back and lay down again, and there it came again. Too big to be a mouse, too small to be a possum,--what was it? My rat brain said, "Rat."  But the second time I got up he stayed on the parapet, and looked casually back at me when I peered between the venetian blind slats. He was a young possum. Not a real baby, but small for a possum. I am beginning to get leery of these critters all about us. As long as they stay outside, we are fine with each other. But that mouse is still in the bedroom.

This morning I made Katy Kornettes again. (See post of a few days ago.)  This time I mistakenly made the batter too thin. I also left out the butter. When I poured them onto the pan, they tended to run together; no spreading needed.

Well, I cooked them a long time in the hot oven, as I sat here maundering at the computer.  They seemed to have disappeared when I brought them out of the oven, but they had not. The water had just evaporated out of them and they lay as a thin thin crispy layer on the pan. Scraped out onto a plate with a spatula, and eaten in hand, they are still SCRUMPTIOUS. Would make a fine corn chip snack for your kids or you. Part of the Katy Kornettes stayed soft, as it should be, and that part is yummy eaten out of hand too.  Oh how delicious.  And no GMO's.  And no gluten.  WOW. What a bone-zana, as my baby Gregory would have said! YAZZYBEL

This Has to be Quick

Good morning~

This has to be quick because my bath is running. Perhaps I should just leave this suspended and come back later. Ok, will try it.

Well, it is still here, and I am still in a hurry. But at least will have touched base.

Yesterday afternoon I had to go to the dentist while he laid before me the plans for his retirement. LOL. Just kidding. He put no pressure on me, made suggestions only. I shall probably take him on the cosmetic ones. LOL.  First things first, no?

When Theo and I returned to the house from that venture, we were greeted by Kitty Blanko who burst out from the back of the house and dashed out the door. My heart always sinks when a cat is in the house alone. I will not be a slave for cat-boxes, so it is always advisable to keep cat OUT when it is not in kitchen under your scrutiny. I don't even know how he got in, but in the night, I discovered why.

As we were turning out lights to take our serene elderly slumber, I heard an unmistakeable little noise under the bed and in the half-dark saw a dark scurrying little motion from under the bed. OH NO!  It was a mouse, which Kitty Blanko had brought in  to us in gratitude for all the food we are putting out to him.

Theo grumblingly got up and set up a Chinese mousetrap (with great difficulty, they are the pits)...and we awoke to find the cheese eaten and the mousie still at large. I just hope he doesn't like meat.

It reminded me of long ago when Theodore and I were in a hotel room in Mexico City. It was a NICE hotel. A POPULAR hotel with tourists.  I kept hearing noises, loud noises, in the dark.  Turned on the lights and--Lord! There were RATS!  Not mice. Rats. Big ones. Sitting on the suitcases. Lounging on the chairs. Going around looking for something.  The lights did not go off for the rest of the night, and when morning came, we got outta there. Horrible.

With that cheery picture, I shall leave you now. YAZZYBEL

And Another Day Dawns

Good morning!
Here we have the injured toes, bare and looking more innocuous than they are,and nattily dressed in Dora the Explorer bandaids, below. Things seem to be improving in the antibiotic department and the pink patch on foot (see bottom of bandaid) is smaller than it was.  I am pleased to see that my toes are still cute at 82. One of the few remaining cute areas, alas.

Yesterday was food day in the San Diego Union Tribune, and the High Holidays were the focus.  I thumbed through the section and was once again irritated to see that only the Ashkenazy foods were  featured.  In an area like this, where are so many people of Hispanic origin, you'd think somebody would speak up for Sephardic Jews, retiring as they are, so I shall.

The Sephardic foods that I know have little to do with Gefilltefish and bagels.  They are the foods of Northern Mexico, basically: roasted lamb, (goat?  also very big in my area) but maybe their feet are cloven, and the ubiquitous :

Arroz Kon Pollo(that's to show you that I can recognize Ladino)

Brown chicken in its own fat in a pan.
Remove chicken pieces and add rice.  Cook the rice a bit until it is white, and add tomatoes, onion, garlic, herbs, seasonings, and stir. Return the chicken to the pan. Add water.

At this point, you can cook the dish on top of the range, in the oven, in coals at a campfire, until it is done.  "Wait a minute," you cry. "That's Arroz Con Pollo!"  Uh huh, it is. And it is delicious and much better than Ashkenazy food all the way. Go on the Amazon.com and get a Sephardic cookbook.  When the Jews were expelled from Spain they headed in all directions.  They already knew how to do good cooking, but all around the Mediterranean they added Turkish, North African, South of France, Italian,  Rhodes flavors, and when they were mandated by the powers that be to the New World to try out the climate to see if it was habitable, they picked up the flavors from there too....and all I can say is YUMMO. Strange that nobody writes in to the paper to tell them this. YAZZYBEL

Back and Cookin' but supposed to be Down

Good morning!

Back to the doc yesterday, a different doc who listened to my remarks about Clindamycin and its threatening sounding side effects. He gave me another antibiotic which I am taking. He told me to stay off my foot and to soak my foot.

But I felt hungry and good when I got up at six to take my pill, so went to the kitchen and made my coffee, then made:

Katy Kornettes

1 pint boiling water
1 c. white cornmeal (non GMO of course)
1 t. sugar
salt and pepper
1/4 c. butter.

Put cornmeal into a large bowl. Pour over the water, add sugar, butter and s and p.  Let sit for 20 minutes.
Heat up the oven to 450.   Pipe kornettes out of a pastry bag into cookies the size of a silver dollar. Spread out thinner. Bake for 20 minutes. 

Katy Kornettes were served on the MKT railroad dining car in the old days. No wonder they said railroad food was so delicious. And I remember it from fifty or sixty years ago and it was.

Katy Kornettes should be brown and crispy around the edges when baked. I didn't fool with a pastry bag, used a teaspoon and smoothed them out with the same. What I did this morning was to take them out and  turn with a spatula at the 20 minute time, and put back in till more brown and crispy.  A thin little piece that got very brown was the best piece of all. They are simply delicious.

My sister no.5 was served these last Saturday at the San Antonio Country Club  at the DAR luncheon. You will have seen these cakes before as my mother's Fried Cornbread. This way there is less fat involved, and if I wanted to eat them as recommended with a little butter, I would leave the butter out of the batter as did my mother. It don't matter. They are DELICIOUS.

Make and enjoy, especially if you are poor Southern White Trash, who are hongry and know what's good. YAZZYBEL

Don't Like Doctorin'

If you don't like doctorin', it's best to go to an ER because your surroundings are at least entertaining as you wait for service and (to be hoped) attention.

The best place to go is to Kaiser Otay Mesa facility if you live near there, because they have a mini ER setup there that functions from noon till eight.  You walk in just as at the big one in faraway Kearney Mesa at Zion, but your wait is not as long and people are not as depressed. Or, if they are, there are fewer of them and the weight of negativity is not so much.

I went in and signed my name onto a paper, then sat. They call your name and you go up and pay.  Then you wait for the attendant or nurse who takes your vitals and then you go into a bright and very clean emergency area with  beds in a quadrangle around the center desk area.

The doctor came, the doctor pronounced, and the doctor went. His name was Garcia and he looked at me with a cynical eye and I looked at him with the same.  (Soulmates).  He sent me to x-ray, got my foot soaked, and sent me to pharmacy with instructions to come back tomorrow. 

The pills are large, turquoise blue and (according to the papers that come with them) possibly lethal.  Well, c'est la vie.  And as the Mexican replied to the Frenchman, Yo se la vi tambien!  YAZZYBEL

Pride Goeth Before a Fall, Linda

That's what my mama used to tell me.

And she is right.  I am not at church today because I hurt my foot last night, right after writing that rather prideful blog.

I went out into the back yard. It was sunset, and the sun was just about level with my eyes, right above the fence line at the west.  As I sashayed across the yard, my eyes were on the sun, and not on my feet.  I walked into, in a stunt I couldn't replicate in a hundred years, the tines of a small garden fork. These tines pierced my toes in two places. One was on the very tip of my right big toe. The second was between the big toe and its neighbor. Think how far I had to travel to get from tip of big toe to inside between it and the next toe, in microseconds.    The one that hurts is the inside one.  Ouch.  I don't think these two wounds were too deep, but they bled something awful.

I cleaned them up assiduously and put on iodine, my charm of choice.

And they hurt in the night, enough to keep me from sleeping until I got up and took a Tylenol. Ow. Imagine. Then in the more middle of the night I stepped on a piece of broken glass in the bathroom, residue of a tumbler Theo had knocked off the counter on Friday in the dead of night.  Still on the right foot.

Two wounds is enough, three enough to tell me that there's a Message here.  What is it?  What could it be? Walk while you can?  Look before you step, EVERY time? Lounge in bed as much as possible? The message I get right now is: get Theo to look in the garage for Mrs. Longnecker's Walker.  It is waiting there for the time of need. This may be it. YAZZYBEL

Blog, Condensed

Does nobody read this blog but me? I feel all alone out here on a limb with no reader but myself!

Too many days have gone by and I have not written the postings that I have thought about. How can this happen? I shall have to try to enumerate some of them in this condensed edition.

First, let me say once and for all that no more posts are to be dedicated only to Kitty Blanko. It's become fairly obvious that KB comes and goes at his sweet will. Lately he's been hungry and has been present for both breakfast and dinner for some days. Period. Enough about him, her or it, for a time.

A corollary to last Sunday's The Sound of Silence was to have been written on Monday. I almost wrote it on Sunday night but waited so as not write two on one day. At the rate I am going I should write however many times a day that the spirit moves me.

I was going to say, apropos of Silence, that I was most irked by a mailing asking, "Won't you feel bad when all your friends' names are on the list as contributors to the rebuilding of the Organ at St Paul's, and your name is not there?"  Ah, little do you know me, chairman of contributions to the fund.  Yes, I will and do feel bad. But the question is, will I allow those feelings to prod me into doing something that for now I have decided not to do?

When I was at Baylor, we were required to go to Chapel every morning at about ten.  Often there was a fine old Southern Baptist preacher there to exhort us for a few minutes. Make our day, so to speak. Once we had a real humdinger.  He was a Revivalist and had a wicked technique.  He was against everything. Precisely, he wanted us to promise to swear off ever drinking (had never had a drink), smoking (had never smoked) or indulging in any Sunday entertainment. And we had to stand up if we swore to this promise.  My sister no. 2 was sitting nearby.  All about us, people began to stand up.  No.2 and I stuck to our guns.  People craned their heads to stare at us.  Even though I did not smoke or drink, I refused to say that I would never indulge in Sunday entertainment, because I knew that I had no intention of honoring any such silly notion.  Sister no. 2 was of equal honesty.  While virtually the whole congregation of 500 students turned and stared down at us, we sat it out with red cheeks and angry hearts.  When I got back to the dorm, I challenged my roommates, who had all been standing sheeplike about the auditorium, and they all said, ALL! "Oh, I knew I wouldn't keep my promise, but I just stood up because everyone else was doing it."

So, be afraid of my name's not appearing on a list at church? (Tomorrow). I'll be sorry, but not afraid.  My name used to be on a plaque concocted at the last organ fund-raiser, and hung in state within the nave for years. Where it is gathering dust now, I do not know nor does anyone else, nor care.  I am sorry, but I have my reasons and one of my reasons will never be that all my friends are on a list and I am not. Never.

There was at least one other topic that I was going to squeeze into this condensed blogsworth,  but I will leave it for tomorrow when I will be afraid to write because all my friends stood up at church and I had to stay sitting down. YAZZYBEL

Music Day and Off I Go

Wednesday, Music Day, and I am going up to Mission Hills to play at Patricia's again.  This is fun for a change, to be at someone else's house.  Usually her house is so full of family that there's no room for piano playing--but people are on vacation so we'll play there for a change.

Too bad; I had the most delicious vegetable soup to feed her with.  Now it's her responsibility and I'll have the soup for supper!

I have little to say today.  If there's more to report on later I'll tag it on later. How's that? YAZZYBEL

O the Dentist! O the Book Club!

Off betimes in the a.m. to the dentist, where I underwent a long and grating (get it,lol?)toothcleaning. I spent the time looking at the immaculately white ceiling and walls of this set of offices made out of what was once a cottage.

He was a new dentist, and I have had to get x-rays galore and today shall go again to meekly submit to "impressions."  He wants to know ALL about me it seems.  I gather he's planning for future implants, but, doc, I gotta tell you that most of us 82 year olds would rather undergo simple tooth-pulling than to endure and pay for the implant procedure. Maybe not, though. Who knows? So I shall get the impressions.

After an afternoon's rest I went last night to the book club, at the prettiest house in the club, out in OB area. I like the house because of its pristine California Spanish style. It's graceful and its adornments as authentic as 1930's could get them. I love it.

We discussed a book about a girl who got institutionalized in the 1930's--40's--when was that anyway...simply because she was a bit independent and wanted to go to college.  Oh what a horrible family. Anyway this poor girl spends a long forgotten life in the clink, until the generalized de-institutionalizations in 1970's released her to live out on her own. Sad story. Melodramatic ending.  Good book? Nah. I give it a 3 out of five, and that is generous.  I do not think there was one smile in the whole book, not one hint of mirth nor happiness.  Make that a 2 out of 5,now that I think of it.

I hated the look of the democratically chosen new book, which is about working girls in New York in the thirties.  Will it be any different from the lives of the institutionalized girls in the novel we read for tonight? Don't want to read it but probably will be good and at least try it.

The hostess had many fine desserts.  I chose to eat fresh fruit (with tiny dab of whipped cream, the book club's ritual dessert embellishment) AND two small slices of apple pie. I have been yearning for cooked apples and there they were, and very satisfying.

For breakfast today I made for myself a jam omelette, made of one Safeway large egg (bird-sized), beaten with pepper and pink salt, and cooked in a tiny bit of butter, omelette style. Then I put on 2 t. pure fruit apricot jam, folded it,and ate it inside one piece of dry white toast, folded.  It was a breakfast both of indulgences and restrictions. I needn't bother to tell you which are which. YAZZYBEL

The Sound of Silence

This is the tenth anniversary of the infamous attacks upon the twin towers in New York.  I have been stunned by the enormity of the observances, as I was by the attacks themselves.  I am sure that these observances have been carried out in all sincerity and good intentions, but to me there is something wrong, or not right, about them.  I heard quite a bit of applause from the attendees at Ground Zero (or Ground Hero as we are now supposed to call it) and it was shocking to hear it.  Applause is about the last thing called for, to my thinking, when remembering a tragic happening such as the running of commercial aircraft full of passengers into tall buildings full of working people.

At some point, The Sound of Silence was sung by Paul Simon, and the commentators remarked that their programmes said that the song was supposed to be A Bridge Over Troubled Waters.  At  church today, a letter was read from the Imam of San Diego, praying for peace between our tribes.  The Forum was going to be dedicated to a discussion of the event and to the anniversary of its occurrence.  I didn't go. I opted for Silence.  I find it very confusing, the whole thing. It isn't that I don't want to think about it. I don't want to listen to others talking about it.  Between the retaliatory atrocities of the attack upon an unwitting populace in Iraq, the horrible events of the day of Sept. 11, 2001 itself, and the desperate voices pleading for revenge, reconciliation, restraint, and compromise--yes, I am confused.  Silence is my best response.

The Dean mentioned in his sermon today that John Kennedy asked the Premier of China back when Kennedy was president: What did the Premier of China think of the French Revolution?  Responded the Premier:  "Too soon to say."

My feelings exactly.  Let us weep privately, plan privately, think privately. Let us read, and let us wait. Let us be as informed at all times as we possibly can, without succumbing gullibly to the voices coming at us from all sides, advocating hatred, forgiveness, compromise. We think we know what Jesus would have counseled. But even he got mad enough at something  to beat down the moneychangers with a chain and his own hand.  We are just not sure exactly what it was. Are we?  Let us be quiet, let us be quiet, go softly, mind our business, grieve for the dead, help the living, and be quiet.  YAZZYBEL

Fade to Cool

Good afternoon!

Our major incident ended not with a bang but a whimper.  Thank God for that.  We were all a tiny bit uneasy here in Southern California.  And on Friday morning, you could hardly get into the stores like Walmart for the huge crush of people who, I believe, suddenly realized that they were not at all prepared for even one day of privation of the Essentials for Life.  So they belatedly stocked up.   That stuff will sit there like my Y2K stash, until someone in the family nags and it all gets dispersed into the world of charity. (Baja) (probably).

Even the winds turned cold, as if embarrassed at the press of heat and suffocation they'd inflicted on a nation already without resources for air-cooling, air-movement, and light.  So now we are back into the suit jacket mentality when we think of leaving the house.

To complement all this thinking, the anniversary of Sept. 11, 2001 is upon us.  My husband is evading hearing about it by sticking to the US Tennis Open. I am watching movies about dragons and reading the book club book.  I  don't like anniversaries of tragedies because they are too often sentimental and exploitative of bad events.  So I shall bow my head in prayer tomorrow morning and remember for a moment, if I ever forgot, the horror of the day's occurrences on September 11th.

This blog may undergo bloggus interruptus at any time now, as I prepare to move the computer to another room and clear this living room out a bit from my drifts of paper. I may move the operation to  the Public Library, entirely, and the hiatus will be as long as is necessary under the circumstances. But not yet, not yet. Soon, but not yet.YAZZYBEL

WHOA

Good morning!

Whoa. We've had a Major Incident.

Our power went off yesterday after noon at three:forty p.m.  I was outside trying to cool off, reading Pride and Prejudice out on the back patio. (It wasnt cool!) Theo was just inside glued to the US Open. Suddenly all was silent, and I said, "Don't turn off the TV, go over to Chris Matthews," because we were trying to find out when the President's speech would be on.

He snapped back that he had not turned it off but that if I wanted to change the channel I should come in and do that instead of   "barking out orders," his  favorite phrase for the general range of my deportment.

Finally I realized that the fans were not revolving and that we were in the throes of a power outage.  I ran to the bedroom to grab a portable radio and by the time I got it on KOGO had begun a noble and lengthy reportage of our situation.  No one knew what had happened, nor the extent of the outage. But as the phone calls reeled in, it because apparent that this was no minor or local incident and one felt those prickings of awareness that come at times like this. How prepared are we in case this goes on for some time?

I was all for jumping in the car and driving around to get some air-conditioning, as our house was stuffier than ever without the fans, but was quickly disabused of the illusion that that would be a good idea as more and more callers called in to report massive traffic congestions on all major streets.  When the power went out, many people jumped in their cars to leave work early and head for home, and as a result, many were stranded in their cars like sardines in a tin can, for hours on the streets and highways. 

We had no report of compromised water systems, so I went out and watered the shrubbery and the grass all around the house just in case of fire.  I heard many jackasses shooting off fireworks in the early night, so my caution might have been valuable if anything had caught fire.

I don't know what the traffic was like in CV, but as I was on my porch the neighbors were in their truck driving out and yelled to ask me if we needed anything from the store. I said no thanks, and they zoomed out to look for whatever it was they needed. I understand that ice was going for five dollars a bag in some places.  They returned shortly but I don't know what they found out there.

We hoped for a quick end to our emergency but as time went on we learned the extent of the crisis, as it extended way up into Orange County, east as far as New Mexico, and down into northern Baja California.  The San Onofre "nucular" power plant went offline immediately, raising more antennae in us paranoids, for it suggested a potential for larger scale danger than we were being informed about.

We went to bed early, without lighting one candle. We took flashlights to bed with us. It was beautifully dark and quiet out there.  Wow, what a beautiful night.  I understand that lots of people ate outside, in their gardens or at restaurants, by candlelight. The unpleasant crisis was turned into a time of bonding and celebration.  For us, being old, it was a time for relaxation and snoozing.  By two a.m. enough cool moist air was coming in to make a light cover comfy enough, and when I woke at three, it was to the realization that the streetlights were on and the fans all whirring merrily.  Crisis over. It could have been worse and may yet be so...some lady called the Coast to Coast radio in the night to say that they were packed up to leave for Canada this morning (from Wichita) because her relative who works for Homeland Security had warned her that this power crisis in Southern Californ was the signal for some massive emergency to occur for the whole country.  So this morning as I write this she and her family are driving north, hell for leather. I hope she was kidding. But the fact that I even write this down is indicative of the feelings that can come upon us in this season of historic calamity. YAZZYBEL

Well, I skipped Wednesday

Good morning!

Maybe I'll have time to write a bit before I have to make breakfast. If not, this will be short!

Let's go back to Tuesday morning, the beautiful, cool, showery morning.  When we went to the store at about ten, it was raining and cool enough that I wore a light rain jacket.  When we came home, the rain stopped but it wasn't for an hour or so that I noticed that what little air that was getting into the house was HOT.  How could it be hot, after such coolness? We haven't had heat like that for months.

Well, it was and is hot right now. It was as if a big ShopVac hose had come down and sucked every bit of rain and coolness out of the universe and had left us oppressed under a saucer of pure heat.  Our house hates heat, doesn't handle it well. I've spent the last two days going around opening windows (as Theodore is a window-closer.) and it is difficult. Hard on my osteoarthritis.  "I'm swallowing resveratrol as fast as I can!"

Yesterday Patricia invited me to go up to her house to play, and I grouchily refused because of the heat. Then I reflected that it would be cool until noon, so why not go and enjoy  myself? So I did and was glad I did. Her piano is different and pleasant to play upon. It was good to be in her airy house again.  We had an enjoyable time playing. And she fixed me a wonderful lunch of Gouda cheese melted on artisan bread, plus lentil soup.

By the time I got into the car to come home, the heat had settled in again.  We are just lucky to have coolish California nights (Thank you, O Great Pacifica!) so that we can sleep and wake refreshed in a cool morning.  So had a great Wednesday after all, though I did not blog about it--until now. 

That picture up there is of my Angel Trumpet flowers. They start out yellow and quickly become apricot colored. Just beautiful. I have another plant, baby of this one, that's planted in the ground and is eight feet tall and glad to be out in the world.  I 'm still waiting for the lady who owns the old eucalyptus tree that's ruining our back yard to bring the thing down. Then about eight plants and trees will go into the ground. YAZZYBEL

My Lord, What a Mornin'!

There's a wonderful bonus to getting up early.  You get to see the sky at very early morning.  If you get up before dawn, you'll have to plan to miss the morning sky, because you'll be back inside reading the paper or your email as it happens.  If you wake at the first morning light, when you go out you'll see wonders in the sky.

We have been having monsoon weather lately. When I went out at first light, it was obvious that we had had more rain during the night.  Rain is almost too big a word for it, for it falls so quietly, stealthily almost, that I never hear it in bed.  But it had darkened the driveway quite a bit more than yesterday morning's rain did. 

Coming down the front steps, I looked ahead over Richard and Terry's house to see a beautiful storm-streaked sky. As I got past the obstruction of the garage I saw the glory of sunlight and cloud to the east.  Then all the way out to the street to get the paper, I looked  to the west over the Picazos' house to a beautiful looming purplish gray dark mass over the ocean.  I was so newly awake that my vision was reeling with all these light-and-cloud effects.  My fingers and my mind yearned for a paintbox, to start mixing water and gray and purple and blue to form these impressions on a piece of paper.

I guess that's why there are so many bad skies in amateur paintings: we want to capture the uncaptureable and our skills are not up to the task. Or should I say, our practice has not brought us up to the task.  Any time I see a painting with a wonderful sky I study it square by square: There he did thus and so, and there something else. Isolated, their techniques do not make a sky, but put together they have caught some hint of the magnificence that surrounds us. YAZZYBEL

Beautiful Monday

Hi!

I woke up at about three, very unhappy from some sort of nightmare. Not a dream, that I could remember, but a feeling of pain, frustration, misery, panic. Then I was awake for a while, but around four or five  I calmed down and went back to sleep.

The feeling I had was, above all things, portentous.  As if something were about to happen that I was actually sensing in my dream.  I do not often have such feelings when asleep, but it did happen a week or so ago also. This time I really wonder.  Maybe it is the Earthquake. We are due for a Big One.

When I got up and went out, the driveway was damp, and so was the newspaper. Not wet, just damp, but I knew we'd had a little rain.  It happened again while I was taking my bath.  And the air is heavy with the possibility of more.  Monsoon weather, floating in from Arizona, perhaps. It's gray outside and pleasant.
In spite of my miserable dream, I feel happy today.

I had more broccoli salad for lunch.  There is enough for dinner. Maybe I have to be sensible and eat my dinner at three and then stop eating, like smart old ladies. It's a good idea, worth trying..... YAZZYBEL

Figs, Broccoli, and Makeup for Old Ladies

Good evening!

Went to church this morning. It was pleasant. The Dean is back from his vacation, but there were not too many people around as it's the Labor Day weekend.

Came home, stopping at the Home Avenue Goodwill by way of diversion.  There purchased I a silvery wood frame for the photo of no. 5 and her husband, and a large square-round water-color glass jar to hold flowers in the kitchen. It's meant to be a canister but is lacking its top and will be perfect for a kitchen flower holder.

Then to the Von's where I bought a large fresh head of broccoli and made the salad thereof when I came home. It's that broccoli-onion-raisin-bacon one that became so popular a number of years ago.  It is still one of those dishes that has a hypnotic effect on the consumer. You don't want to sit in front of the TV with the whole salad bowlful in your lap or you will just go on mindlessly eating the whole thing.

Tonight Theo and I picked a whole bunch of ripe figs and I removed four and took the rest to our neighbors the Picazos.  I thought I could count on Mexicans' loving figs, but Rick, the dad, took them in a lukewarm way as he does not like them but was pretty sure he could find someone in the family who did. Oh dear. Lukewarm about figs. Well, you either love them or you don't.

Here's how I make up my face for church at seven in the morning. And if you are 82 this is how you should make up your face every day.

Make sure your face is clean, but do not slather it with any moisterizer right before you make up or you possibly could streak up your face.  On your clean dry face, already moisturized the night before or early early before you go out, put a slight dusting of the finest face powder you can find, in the color closest to your own color that you can find. Right now I am using Borghese pressed powder and it is so much finer than, say, Estee Lauder that you'd not believe it.  Step two involves applying some color to your lips or otherwise they will be gray, lol. I have a Revlon lipstick in a clear medium pink color, not rose, not mauve, not plum, just a clear pink. Apply, blot well, comb hair, and adios.That's it. A light powdering is much kinder to octagenarian skin than any amount of covering material. My mama taught me that.  Thanks, Mama. And in the winter I will use a powder blush high on my cheeks in a clear light pinky rose if I feel gray all over.  And that's it.

One last note, of gloom alas--Kitty B. has disappeared again. Where can he be? Where does he go?  Hope he comes back; I'll keep you posted. YAZZYBEL

Eating Cheap

Good morning!

I am beginning this posting as I finish a delicious plate of Huevos a la Mexicana.

Huevos a la Mexicana have become my favorite breakfast dish as I try (sometimes not so successfully) to abstain from meat fats...My old favorite was Huevos Con Chorizo and I still don't think there's anything more delicious.  But Huevos a la Mexicana is so simple and tasty that no one could complain. Here's how you make it. (Notice I said, "it"--this is for one egg.)

a fifty cent piece size chunk of onion, chopped
a 1/4 jalapeno pepper, chopped

Spray the pan with good pan spray and frazzle up those bits of onion and pepper.  They can even brown a teeny bit. Add one egg, and scramble away. You have been toasting a corn tortilla over an open flame, so now put it on a plate, add the egg and EAT. Very nice.  This morning my jalapeno was very very meek, so next time I will taste beforehand and if it doesn't have some kick I'll add a few of the seeds.  My chile-pequines are producing now in the back yard and I may add one (ONE) of those to these proportions. Then I will not have to worry about kick.

One egg just fills one folded tortilla. Makes you realize how many eggs you get when you get H. a la M. in a cafe--wasteful for this li'l'  old lady.  One is all I should have per meal.  I had a smallish glass of much-maligned orange juice with this. I think orange juice is very good. Too high in sugar, yes, but it is natural and has fiber and vitamins and wakes up the body. Plus it fights the cholesterol.  Zzzzz.

Last night we had Cowboy Steak for supper.  As a beef dish it is not too fat, either for the body nor for the pocketbook.  In order to make this, I look in the supermarket for good cuts of meat that have been marked way down because they've come to the doomsday date on the package. These steaks were red, bright, moist and good-looking. No reason to pass them over becauase they are $4.00 instead of $8.00!

I was watching a movie in the bedroom so instead of browning them in a skillet, I put them into the oven to let them brown. They even got a little too brown, and looked kind of like roof shingles when I got them out, but that was good because they left most all their fat in the pan. I speared them out and put them into the skillet with cut up (good sized chunks) of green pepper, onion, red pepper, tomato, and a few grains of McCormick type dried minced garlic. With water added, they merrily simmered until supper time. At the time you serve this, you could take some juice out and mix with a little flour  in a dish and put it back in to thicken the gravy. You could add rice or potato cubes toward the last if you'd rather do that. I did add a quartered carrot or two about half an hour before dinner.  Other additives could be: tomato paste, catsup(!), chili powder, herb sprinklings, and of course salt and pepper.  These steaks were some kind of thin cut meant no doubt for the grill, but adapted quite nicely to my treatment and came out tender and juicy in a relatively short time. If I were doing a thick piece of meat I would put it in the oven covered to finish up its cooking as it would need longer than an hour and a half to get tender and delicious. YUMMO. YAZZYBEL