Sporadic work on the house next door continues though I think the workmen are part-time friends of the family because they're not there every day and obviously have other jobs. But when they ARE there . . .
. . . the Queen's Quarters continue to look more like a place to live.
I don't know about you but my Fridays seem to roll around faster and faster these days. As a prelude, I have to tell you that a group of eight oldsters from years of work at Channel 12 in Phoenix had another gathering at the Rock Springs Cafe yesterday. It was crowded, we didn't get seated for a very long time and our lunches took even longer but there was plenty of good conversation, laughs and a little sadness as we remembered our colleagues who had passed.
But with that out of the way, let's get on to the business of the day.
Let's be bold, Gentle Readers, get out there and enjoy yourselves and please do have a fantastic weekend.
I called Tom and Lana the other night to ask how far they were from the Pacific and Lana said she couldn't hold the phone because she had pear juice on her hands. She said, "Those pictures you post of all those delicious looking desserts and I give Tom a pear!" So I thought I'd show her (and all of you) that we do occasionally eat healthy. Like last night.
Back in the Dark Ages, which is what I call the 1950's, I spent a couple of years fruitlessly at a college in North Dakota. It was the era of the Beats and I picked up a thin book of poetry by Lawrence Ferlinghetti one day and became hooked.
I don't have my original copy but I picked up another one a few years ago.
This book of whimsy and the novel "On The Road" by Jack Kerouac became my bibles in those few years.
Incidentally, Ferlinghetti once said "Don't call me a Beat poet. I was never a Beat poet."
The poet had moved to San Francisco in 1950 and opened City Lights Bookstore, which is still a mecca in the city.
He published "Howl", a poem by Allen Ginsberg that led to him being arrested on obscenity laws, which led to a lengthy trial and his eventual acquittal.
Today is his 100th birthday and I read that he is largely blind.
But the mayor has proclaimed it "Lawrence Ferlinghetti Day" in San Francisco.
I was just leafing through my book of his poetry and came across one that begins with "The world is a beautiful place to be born into . . ." and concludes with ". . . but then right in the middle of it comes the smiling mortician."
That title to this post is what Judy (SWMBO) called the story of her project today in an email to a friend. We had somehow accumulated way too much bread in our small home so she decided to use some of it up by making bread pudding. So she cubed up a whole bunch of bread and put it into a low oven to dry out. Then she marinated some dry cherries in warm brandy and some diced apricots in Triple Sec for about 30 minutes. Then she got out the half and half, the milk, the eggs, the vanilla, the butter, the nutmeg, the cinnamon and the salt. She beat the eggs with the half and half and milk and the spices and then combined them with the apricots and the cherries. Then she buttered a large dish and spread half of the bread in the bottom of it, poured the pudding mixture over it and topped it with the other half of the bread. Then she sat staring at it as it soaked up the liquid. And remembered the sugar she had forgotten to add to the pudding mixture! She knew she couldn't separate the bread layers. She reasoned she couldn't pry them carefully apart to get the sugar in. So finally she got out another egg, some more milk and the sugar and beat them into submission, then poured it over the top and, using a sponging technique and sheer, brute strength got it combined as well she could. And baked it for an hour or more.
We each had a ration for our lunch.
Let me tell you, friends, it tastes as good as it looks.
That's how someone who's been in the kitchen for over 60 years handles errors.
If it had been me, I would still be whimpering, whining and wailing.
Ah, Gentle Readers, the Ides of March have been late getting here. The Savannah (flood plain) is totally fogged in this morning. My car's heater is blowing cold air and the vehicle is in the shop. Another cycle of the Sun is soon to be completed for this aging body. But, Judy, the amazing photographer, is back after a 2-1/2 year hiatus with her blog Prescott Area Daily Photo. Washington is all a-Twitter (heh-heh) with rumors that the Mueller Report is about to be released. And it's FRIDAY! So, with new sly grins on our faces, let us proceed to the Funnies.
Thanks once again to my contributors for making this job easier and helping put smiles instead of frowns on all of our faces.
Now, could you conspire with your compatriots and comrades to create a clamorous and cheerful cruise, camouflaging cataclysms and catastrophes, calculating the chances and carrying forth? You can? Capital! In other words have a great weekend and always remember to keep laughing! Here, kitty-kitty . . .
"Spring is here. I hear." It allegedly arrived yesterday. But there was thunder during the night and, though we didn't get the storm that started in California, we did get a smattering of rain while we all slept. Remember the construction going on near us?
It's coming along.
The above photo is one I posted on March 7th.
Here's one from yesterday.
Weather has been keeping the workmen from the job frequently during the build so it's going slowly.
I walked up to the site yesterday and had a nice chat with our neighbor, Jan, who will inhabit the structure.
She's currently living with her son and his wife in the house to which this new one will be attached.
She said sometimes two women in one home can be a problem.
I asked her if this was the new Casa de Jan.
(Jan is her name.)
She said she was currently referring to it as "The Queen's Quarters."
At any rate it raises my spirits as I see it as a sign of spring and growth.
It is supposed to reach 65 degrees here today and I just spent 15 minutes sitting in my backyard watching a new (cat) visitor climb way up in a neighbor's dead tree and then very carefully make it's way back down. Smart cat. At any rate I'm enjoying the onset of Spring. But there are other misguided souls (I'm looking at you, William Kendall) who actually love snow, ice and winter and will be sorry for it to leave. For them, then, a return to snowy glory.
For those of you (us) who live in sagebrush country . . .