Sunday

Good afternoon.

It's Sunday. Did not go to church, 3rd Sunday in a row. Gracious. Too tired to make the effort, and that's BAD.

We went to Ralph's and bought a steak for supper, and deli food for lunch.  Sitting here now with a kind of bad taste in my mouth. They don't know how to make enchiladas, I fear. NO GARLIC IN THE ENCHILADAS, said my mama, and I think she was right.  In a cuisine where many dishes are made using the same ingredients, it is not bad to have an arbitrary rule like that so you'll get the taste you expect when you eat something.

The enchiladas, chicken enchiladas by genre, were also too HOT. Too enchiladas.  Mucho chile en las enchiladas.  Hot and garlicky is not the right taste for enchiladas.  "Couldn't you just be not so picky?" a voice is asking in my ear, whose voice I do not know. Couldn't be my Mama's.  Otherwise, the enchiladas were not bad, with the right amount of sauce, and sprinkled with a generous amount of cheese and green onion tops.  Too much chicken for one person for a meal, as I now know after getting MOW meals for nearly a week. We could have bought one enchilada and split it in two.

I also bought broccoli salad. Pretty good. It had cashew nuts in it and no raisins.  Better the other way round,  I think, but it was okay. I took Theo's half out and put it in a bowl with  a little water and microwaved it so he could eat it as a vegetable and not salad.

All tolerable.  At four thirty I shall take one of the steaks I bought, put the other into the freezer, and pan-broil that little steak for my husband so he will get enough protein.  Makes up for the MOW which is all right but lacking in beefsteaks.

Above, we see "Intimations of Spring," one of a group of bulbs bought for me by Ben on sale  at Christmastime. Badly bedraggled, they were, as bulbs, trampled by elephants and manhandled, but as we see, showing the promise of new life to come...YAZZYBEL