Good morning!
Well...the kids (Alex, Ben, and Alex's son Daniel) were here for nine whole days, working like ants the whole time in the garage.
They left on Sunday, A and D driving a UHaul, Ben driving his car with Foxy in the pilot's position...and Theo went to the hospital.
So here I have been after days of hectic cooking, running, eating, planning...high and dry and alone for a couple of nights. Theo is supposed to come home tonight but it'll be many a long day before I see any of the others again.
I seem to have caught a refreshment of my summer cold, and am sniffing away. Downer.
I am also picking up stuff. They went through the garage, but left the house largely untouched. So the little stuff that's around is still around. The valuables are still around. And most of the furniture is still around. Gracious.
Still don't know what we'll do or where we'll go.
Something to think about. YAZZYBEL
Tuesday, June 25, 2013
Tuesday, June 18, 2013
Three Interesting Things
Things are interesting in the news right now.
Things are interesting at home but they're so complicated that I can't cope with anything.
So, to the three things in the world news that are of interest to me right now.
One is the crisis in the Administration which precipitated the IRS scandals or whatever they are: the investigations against the Tea Party-ers and others who, however different from ourselves as we may perceive them, are identical to us in the matter of constitutional rights.
Another is what's happening in Syria and now, Turkey, as I heard the other night. If it werent for the all-night news I'd never learn anything for the newspaper is such a rumpus that I can't find anything but nonsense.
And the third and most important thing is the immigration reform nonsense taking place in the House and Senate if they ever put it together.
Apropos of the first, I have never not thought that our very emails were being looked over daily by a crowd of long-suffering agents. At least, fellers, those of the Longoria girls are grammatical and subject-oriented, and have almost no bad words. Give us that.
Apropos of the second, I wish to state to President Barack Obama that I do not want us to go to war in Syria or Turkey. I wish us to keep an eye on Iran and its nuclear development and work out some plan for control that does not include our going over there with boys and girls and arms...we've gotta find some other way to make money in this USA. Repeat: if we need to make money and generate incomes, let it not be with swords but with plowshares.
And as for the third, I say, stop trying to buy the goodwill of our sometime permanent guests of the last twenty years. There will be no good will from them no matter how hard we try. Mexicans can be bought, but not by good will. They just already know that we are suckers. STOP all present talk in the H. and the S. Bring in the troops and close the borders. And then get serious. I know that's not going to happen because too many groups and individuals in the USA are economically tied to and dependent on the DRUG TRAFFIC -ing trade. It is ridiculous to view the scene without acknowledging that. Grow up, all.
I am writing on these might issues to show you how much easier it is to deal with them than it is to deal with a husband in and out of ER's, visiting and very helpful sons who are working out in the garage to clear out fifty plus years of stuff (anybody want a collection of pristine Northern California seashells from 1958?)...and feeding all the above according to five different diets, and getting to know a fifteen year old grandson who's taking it all in. He and I are both learners in the situation. This is the first time he has been among the men of his family, talking amicably, working hard together, making plans. This is the first time I have been an old lady who is going to have to make a move to somewhere she doesn't necessarily want to go to, in a condition she doesn't necessarily want to be in.
That's all for the subject on this day. YAZZYBEL
Things are interesting at home but they're so complicated that I can't cope with anything.
So, to the three things in the world news that are of interest to me right now.
One is the crisis in the Administration which precipitated the IRS scandals or whatever they are: the investigations against the Tea Party-ers and others who, however different from ourselves as we may perceive them, are identical to us in the matter of constitutional rights.
Another is what's happening in Syria and now, Turkey, as I heard the other night. If it werent for the all-night news I'd never learn anything for the newspaper is such a rumpus that I can't find anything but nonsense.
And the third and most important thing is the immigration reform nonsense taking place in the House and Senate if they ever put it together.
Apropos of the first, I have never not thought that our very emails were being looked over daily by a crowd of long-suffering agents. At least, fellers, those of the Longoria girls are grammatical and subject-oriented, and have almost no bad words. Give us that.
Apropos of the second, I wish to state to President Barack Obama that I do not want us to go to war in Syria or Turkey. I wish us to keep an eye on Iran and its nuclear development and work out some plan for control that does not include our going over there with boys and girls and arms...we've gotta find some other way to make money in this USA. Repeat: if we need to make money and generate incomes, let it not be with swords but with plowshares.
And as for the third, I say, stop trying to buy the goodwill of our sometime permanent guests of the last twenty years. There will be no good will from them no matter how hard we try. Mexicans can be bought, but not by good will. They just already know that we are suckers. STOP all present talk in the H. and the S. Bring in the troops and close the borders. And then get serious. I know that's not going to happen because too many groups and individuals in the USA are economically tied to and dependent on the DRUG TRAFFIC -ing trade. It is ridiculous to view the scene without acknowledging that. Grow up, all.
I am writing on these might issues to show you how much easier it is to deal with them than it is to deal with a husband in and out of ER's, visiting and very helpful sons who are working out in the garage to clear out fifty plus years of stuff (anybody want a collection of pristine Northern California seashells from 1958?)...and feeding all the above according to five different diets, and getting to know a fifteen year old grandson who's taking it all in. He and I are both learners in the situation. This is the first time he has been among the men of his family, talking amicably, working hard together, making plans. This is the first time I have been an old lady who is going to have to make a move to somewhere she doesn't necessarily want to go to, in a condition she doesn't necessarily want to be in.
That's all for the subject on this day. YAZZYBEL
Saturday, June 8, 2013
Something Delicious--and a Bonus
Good morning.
This won't be anything really new, just a couple of ideas on how you can use food in your refrigerator to make a couple of really good meals.
I had three large red tomatoes that had been sitting out in my kitchen for a few days, and knew I had to deal with them. Numero uno was past it when I got around to it; it was well on the way to bad. So I tossed it, but the other two were still intact and looked good though too ripe to slice. So I cut them into quarters and blended them in my mini Cuisineart until they were liquid. I poured them into a jar and had them in the refrigerator while I pondered the rest of my options.
I had a cold cooked dinosaur chicken breast in the refrigerator as well, but what with driving all over the creation and going to the hospital on the docket this week, it had been sitting there and looked mighty petrified.
So, I took that chicken breast and put it into a saucepan and added chicken broth to cover. I added onions because I love them so much and to me they add to anything. I sprinkled in a few herbs of the oregano/rosemary/marjoram type, and set it to cook. After it had all simmered for a time, I added the tomato puree that I'd set aside earlier in the refrigerator. The whole broth took on the most beautiful color, a brilliant yet fresh looking yellow-red orange...and smelled heavenly.
After a time, I decided that that chicken breast had softened up for long enough, and I took it out and laid it onto a platter and with two forks I first removed the skin (for the kitty, who actually ate it) and then pulled the chicken apart into shreds. The shreds actually covered the whole platter thickly and were a ton of good meat. There were bones because you know I don't like clones, and those I tossed.
When lunch time came, I took out half of the meat, put it into a bowl, cut a lot of celery, added Hellman's Mayonesa Con Limon, and put it away into the refrigerator as a salad for another meal.
The remaining chicken, as I eyed it, looked like a good five tacos' worth at least, so I took five tortillas out of the refrigerator and put them into a baking pan and sprayed them with spray olive oil and put them into the oven. I also took several tablespoonsful of the broth and mixed it into the chicken on the platter.
I opened a can of hominy and heated it up. I opened a can of pinto beans and heated them up.
I removed the softened tortillas (they soften up quickly) and added to each one a large portion of shredded chicken, and a large pinch of lo-fat shredded cheese. I folded them and set them aside to go back into the oven in a moment.
The broth, in the meantime, was simmering away . Lunch was almost ready. I looked in the refrigerator and found a bag of cut-up chard, and I shredded some of the leaves/stems/whatever. I put the tacos back into the oven until thoroughly warm and melted.
For lunch we each got a bowl of delicious golden red broth. Theodore got four generous tacos and I got one. We each had a serving of frijoles and hominy on our plates. I sprinkled shredded chard over the tacos (instead of lettuce, which I also like--but the chard is more nutritious.)
It was a good and filling main meal of the day, with very little fat and lots of nutrition and flavor. Bonus was that I put the last of the hominy and beans into the last of the broth, and put it all into the refrigerator for a soup today at supper. I'll just add a bit of chicken broth from the carton in the refrigerator. (A very convenient thing to have around.)
This last soup could also have some ginger or some coconut added and it wouldn't be a bit out of line, if you wanted a slightly different cast of ethnicity to your soup. Fusion cuisine, de veras.YAZZYBEL
This won't be anything really new, just a couple of ideas on how you can use food in your refrigerator to make a couple of really good meals.
I had three large red tomatoes that had been sitting out in my kitchen for a few days, and knew I had to deal with them. Numero uno was past it when I got around to it; it was well on the way to bad. So I tossed it, but the other two were still intact and looked good though too ripe to slice. So I cut them into quarters and blended them in my mini Cuisineart until they were liquid. I poured them into a jar and had them in the refrigerator while I pondered the rest of my options.
I had a cold cooked dinosaur chicken breast in the refrigerator as well, but what with driving all over the creation and going to the hospital on the docket this week, it had been sitting there and looked mighty petrified.
So, I took that chicken breast and put it into a saucepan and added chicken broth to cover. I added onions because I love them so much and to me they add to anything. I sprinkled in a few herbs of the oregano/rosemary/marjoram type, and set it to cook. After it had all simmered for a time, I added the tomato puree that I'd set aside earlier in the refrigerator. The whole broth took on the most beautiful color, a brilliant yet fresh looking yellow-red orange...and smelled heavenly.
After a time, I decided that that chicken breast had softened up for long enough, and I took it out and laid it onto a platter and with two forks I first removed the skin (for the kitty, who actually ate it) and then pulled the chicken apart into shreds. The shreds actually covered the whole platter thickly and were a ton of good meat. There were bones because you know I don't like clones, and those I tossed.
When lunch time came, I took out half of the meat, put it into a bowl, cut a lot of celery, added Hellman's Mayonesa Con Limon, and put it away into the refrigerator as a salad for another meal.
The remaining chicken, as I eyed it, looked like a good five tacos' worth at least, so I took five tortillas out of the refrigerator and put them into a baking pan and sprayed them with spray olive oil and put them into the oven. I also took several tablespoonsful of the broth and mixed it into the chicken on the platter.
I opened a can of hominy and heated it up. I opened a can of pinto beans and heated them up.
I removed the softened tortillas (they soften up quickly) and added to each one a large portion of shredded chicken, and a large pinch of lo-fat shredded cheese. I folded them and set them aside to go back into the oven in a moment.
The broth, in the meantime, was simmering away . Lunch was almost ready. I looked in the refrigerator and found a bag of cut-up chard, and I shredded some of the leaves/stems/whatever. I put the tacos back into the oven until thoroughly warm and melted.
For lunch we each got a bowl of delicious golden red broth. Theodore got four generous tacos and I got one. We each had a serving of frijoles and hominy on our plates. I sprinkled shredded chard over the tacos (instead of lettuce, which I also like--but the chard is more nutritious.)
It was a good and filling main meal of the day, with very little fat and lots of nutrition and flavor. Bonus was that I put the last of the hominy and beans into the last of the broth, and put it all into the refrigerator for a soup today at supper. I'll just add a bit of chicken broth from the carton in the refrigerator. (A very convenient thing to have around.)
This last soup could also have some ginger or some coconut added and it wouldn't be a bit out of line, if you wanted a slightly different cast of ethnicity to your soup. Fusion cuisine, de veras.YAZZYBEL
Thursday, June 6, 2013
June 6, 1944
Good morning!
Sixty nine years ago today, I was at Methodist Church Camp in the heart of the hill country of Texas. It was a beautiful experience in a beautiful place.
Every morning, we went to a chapel meeting before the day began, and at that meeting, I remember, the announcement was made that the Allied Forces had commenced an invasion onto the German-held coast of Normandy. It was a day of great patriotic pride and hope that our nation would soon lead us all into the vanquishment of the Nazi regime in Europe. I was fifteen years old, and have a snapshot that commemorates that day in my life. And thousands of miles away, boys not much older than I were undergoing a tremendous and terrible ordeal that would end their lives or change them forever, in order to save all their fellow Americans. We at that church camp were not unaware of their sacrifice, and in our young thoughtless way we had all of those young soldiers in our thoughts all day long.
In 1988, when I was in Paris on June 6th, we were all made aware that many many ex-servicemen from all over the world were converging upon France in memory of that invasion forty four years earlier. I was mostly concentrating on being in the Louvre and trying to get into the Goya exhibit. The Goya room was not to open for some forty five minutes after lunch, whether that day or every day, and while I waited in the hallway, I looked out the window at Paris (never boring) and chatted to a fellow tourist who was waiting too. He was a tall, thin older American, and we were talking about how congested the traffic was and how many people were in the museum that day.
"It's forty four years since I was here last," he said. "Oh," said I blithely and unthinking, "I'll bet it was a lot more calm and quiet then."
"No," he said quietly. "It was D-Day, and I was on the beach at Normandy."
It all bore in on me then, the reality of what he was going through as I sat under the live-oaks in the Hill Country. The long years that had passed for each of us then, and the chance that had brought us together so much later on, to meet in a waiting area at the Louvre in Paris, waiting for the Goya rooms to open up. YAZZYBEL
Sixty nine years ago today, I was at Methodist Church Camp in the heart of the hill country of Texas. It was a beautiful experience in a beautiful place.
Every morning, we went to a chapel meeting before the day began, and at that meeting, I remember, the announcement was made that the Allied Forces had commenced an invasion onto the German-held coast of Normandy. It was a day of great patriotic pride and hope that our nation would soon lead us all into the vanquishment of the Nazi regime in Europe. I was fifteen years old, and have a snapshot that commemorates that day in my life. And thousands of miles away, boys not much older than I were undergoing a tremendous and terrible ordeal that would end their lives or change them forever, in order to save all their fellow Americans. We at that church camp were not unaware of their sacrifice, and in our young thoughtless way we had all of those young soldiers in our thoughts all day long.
In 1988, when I was in Paris on June 6th, we were all made aware that many many ex-servicemen from all over the world were converging upon France in memory of that invasion forty four years earlier. I was mostly concentrating on being in the Louvre and trying to get into the Goya exhibit. The Goya room was not to open for some forty five minutes after lunch, whether that day or every day, and while I waited in the hallway, I looked out the window at Paris (never boring) and chatted to a fellow tourist who was waiting too. He was a tall, thin older American, and we were talking about how congested the traffic was and how many people were in the museum that day.
"It's forty four years since I was here last," he said. "Oh," said I blithely and unthinking, "I'll bet it was a lot more calm and quiet then."
"No," he said quietly. "It was D-Day, and I was on the beach at Normandy."
It all bore in on me then, the reality of what he was going through as I sat under the live-oaks in the Hill Country. The long years that had passed for each of us then, and the chance that had brought us together so much later on, to meet in a waiting area at the Louvre in Paris, waiting for the Goya rooms to open up. YAZZYBEL
Monday, June 3, 2013
Where Are The Old Crows When You Need 'Em?
Good morning.
For girls' eyes only!!
I have finally decided that I need a bra. Desperately.
I have been skipping blithely through life thinking that my recent conversion to teddies (cami's) is going to do it for me, and be a lot more comfortable--but a recent photo and a stray glance into the mirror have shown me otherwise. I need a new, fitted garment, and when it fits I will get three. But there's a catch.
When I was young I'd go up to a place like Saks in La Jolla, or Worth's on El Cajon Blvd. or even the Broadway, and in the lingerie department there would always be an Older Lady, well corseted herself, who came over and made your life miserable as you looking through the lingerie on your own.
"You need a support garment," she would say, looking you up and down with steely eyes. It didnt matter if you said that you were plenty firm on your own and actually were not sagging at all, those eyes of steel had seen it all, and she'd seen you and found you lacking.
That's the lady I need now. But the trouble is--I am the old crow now. And, as far as I've found, the lingerie salons are staffed by a girl of twenty who's just horrified to be asked to contemplate your problems or to do anything to remediate what she considers a hopeless situation.
She went into the fitting room with you, and she pinched and pulled any garments you took with you, and she pointed out failings here or there, and she made suggestions based on thirty years' experience in underwear fitting rooms. She was more knowledgeable than your gynecologist; she'd seen everything.
Well, here am I with one old worn out bra; I thoughtlessly tossed the others when I went over to cami's. Without the old saleslady, I guess I'll have to rely for the fitting of new ones on the only old crow I have around: me!! YAZZYBEL
For girls' eyes only!!
I have finally decided that I need a bra. Desperately.
I have been skipping blithely through life thinking that my recent conversion to teddies (cami's) is going to do it for me, and be a lot more comfortable--but a recent photo and a stray glance into the mirror have shown me otherwise. I need a new, fitted garment, and when it fits I will get three. But there's a catch.
When I was young I'd go up to a place like Saks in La Jolla, or Worth's on El Cajon Blvd. or even the Broadway, and in the lingerie department there would always be an Older Lady, well corseted herself, who came over and made your life miserable as you looking through the lingerie on your own.
"You need a support garment," she would say, looking you up and down with steely eyes. It didnt matter if you said that you were plenty firm on your own and actually were not sagging at all, those eyes of steel had seen it all, and she'd seen you and found you lacking.
That's the lady I need now. But the trouble is--I am the old crow now. And, as far as I've found, the lingerie salons are staffed by a girl of twenty who's just horrified to be asked to contemplate your problems or to do anything to remediate what she considers a hopeless situation.
She went into the fitting room with you, and she pinched and pulled any garments you took with you, and she pointed out failings here or there, and she made suggestions based on thirty years' experience in underwear fitting rooms. She was more knowledgeable than your gynecologist; she'd seen everything.
Well, here am I with one old worn out bra; I thoughtlessly tossed the others when I went over to cami's. Without the old saleslady, I guess I'll have to rely for the fitting of new ones on the only old crow I have around: me!! YAZZYBEL
Sunday, June 2, 2013
Sunday
Sunday, and no ride to look around in my beautiful city. That's because I planned to go over to Anderson's Nursery and squander some bucks...but a friend reminded me that today's the Rock and Roll Marathon and everything west of the church is swamped with running humanity.
So, I came back to CV with my tail between my legs, and went to the Goodwill where I squandered some money on a blue oxford-cloth shirt to cover my swimsuit when I go water walking, and a couple of VHS--yes I still play that archaic form of entertainment--and a brass standing lamp for when I am trying to read in bed. Its light will supplement the weak light from the bedside lamp.
It was incredibly dark and cold this morning at church. I had thought myself silly to put on my white quilted jacket, but changed my mind when I walked up to the steps and saw M., greeting at the door, and shivering and hugging her arms in her pink tee shirt top.
Only thirty people were at early service, thanks to the Rock and Roll Marathon, which takes away our parking and scares away the wary. I forgot about it and came anyway, which was lucky as I got a close parking space by fate. We were all placed up on the chancel near the altar, with the clergy huddled more or less in the middle.
Nobody knew what to do or where to go or how to proceed, but that practice of putting us up front on slow days is increasing so soon it will be down pat.
I got an interesting view of the church from where I was, straight down the aisle (and it was pitch dark out there, remember) leading to the huge rose-window at the back. Our stained glass windows are remarkable, and with a black surround and lighted with a cold gray outside light, they are very striking. Chartres blue is probably the leading color. And rose windows are just beautiful.
So that was my religious experience today, other than a short chat with friends afterward on the virtues of the Paleo diet. Oh, I wish I could just go on it and stick to it. My heart attack has made me squeamish as to the ingesting of fatty meats..(though I really think LDL is the result of too much carbo.) See how wishy-washy I am? I think I will make it a prayer quest, to be able to try the Paleo and stick to it. YAZZYBEL
So, I came back to CV with my tail between my legs, and went to the Goodwill where I squandered some money on a blue oxford-cloth shirt to cover my swimsuit when I go water walking, and a couple of VHS--yes I still play that archaic form of entertainment--and a brass standing lamp for when I am trying to read in bed. Its light will supplement the weak light from the bedside lamp.
It was incredibly dark and cold this morning at church. I had thought myself silly to put on my white quilted jacket, but changed my mind when I walked up to the steps and saw M., greeting at the door, and shivering and hugging her arms in her pink tee shirt top.
Only thirty people were at early service, thanks to the Rock and Roll Marathon, which takes away our parking and scares away the wary. I forgot about it and came anyway, which was lucky as I got a close parking space by fate. We were all placed up on the chancel near the altar, with the clergy huddled more or less in the middle.
Nobody knew what to do or where to go or how to proceed, but that practice of putting us up front on slow days is increasing so soon it will be down pat.
I got an interesting view of the church from where I was, straight down the aisle (and it was pitch dark out there, remember) leading to the huge rose-window at the back. Our stained glass windows are remarkable, and with a black surround and lighted with a cold gray outside light, they are very striking. Chartres blue is probably the leading color. And rose windows are just beautiful.
So that was my religious experience today, other than a short chat with friends afterward on the virtues of the Paleo diet. Oh, I wish I could just go on it and stick to it. My heart attack has made me squeamish as to the ingesting of fatty meats..(though I really think LDL is the result of too much carbo.) See how wishy-washy I am? I think I will make it a prayer quest, to be able to try the Paleo and stick to it. YAZZYBEL
Saturday, June 1, 2013
The Really Simplest Guacamole
Good evening!
I read a website recently entitled, The Simplest Guacamole....it then proceeded to give a recipe that included everything but the kitchen sink, including mayonesa...a big no-no.
I also read about the Mexican peasant eating his midday lunch of a taco made of one tortilla and one small chile which he broke with his fingernail and smeared across the tortilla. I thought at the time that it was a very spartan lunch, but I am beginning to think, "the simpler the better."
I myself have often eaten a lunch of one tortilla lightly charred on the stove burner, and here is the guacamole I ate on it: one half ripe avocado, mashed up a bit, and spread across the tortilla. I love salt so I add that. Now THAT is one simple guacamole, and very conventient too.
I also loved butter tacos in those long lost days before my ataque de corazon. Toast tortilla as above, spread hot charred tortilla with a dab of cold butter, fold and eat, preferably over the sink. Repeat as required. Nowadays I hardly eat any butter at all. Do I miss it? Sometimes. But jam is a consolation.
You can see that I am a gourmet cook. Ha! But I am a gourmet eater for sure, and those simple items just described can't be beat for taste and satisfaction!!! YAZZYBEL
I read a website recently entitled, The Simplest Guacamole....it then proceeded to give a recipe that included everything but the kitchen sink, including mayonesa...a big no-no.
I also read about the Mexican peasant eating his midday lunch of a taco made of one tortilla and one small chile which he broke with his fingernail and smeared across the tortilla. I thought at the time that it was a very spartan lunch, but I am beginning to think, "the simpler the better."
I myself have often eaten a lunch of one tortilla lightly charred on the stove burner, and here is the guacamole I ate on it: one half ripe avocado, mashed up a bit, and spread across the tortilla. I love salt so I add that. Now THAT is one simple guacamole, and very conventient too.
I also loved butter tacos in those long lost days before my ataque de corazon. Toast tortilla as above, spread hot charred tortilla with a dab of cold butter, fold and eat, preferably over the sink. Repeat as required. Nowadays I hardly eat any butter at all. Do I miss it? Sometimes. But jam is a consolation.
You can see that I am a gourmet cook. Ha! But I am a gourmet eater for sure, and those simple items just described can't be beat for taste and satisfaction!!! YAZZYBEL
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