Proudly bringing you quirky and mundane observations.
Finally, I figured out how to get rid of the title on my blog. For some bizarre reason, “romper room” has been hanging out ever since I published that post. I tried everything – except enlisting the support of my personal IT guy, “Pen.” I gave up, until yesterday.
It was a total accident because I hit the incorrect heading in my editing. Apparently I accidentally hit it on a previous episode of quirky and mundane, also.
Sometimes the easiest solutions are just that – the easiest.
The absolute best part of baking a pie from scratch is being able to enjoy it for breakfast the next day. It’s a pastry delicacy that I truly relish with my morning cup of joe.
Absolute pie perfection comes from my daughter’s exact measurements of the lattice top on a cherry pie. My pies scream “homemade” due to their slapped together, haphazard criss-crossing and imperfect pinching of the crust. I really should take a little more time and pride in the execution, but you know what? It all tastes the same.
The last piece of deliciousness awaits. (And my daughter will be providing the Thanksgiving pies so that they actually do look as beautiful as they taste.)
We used to carve jack-o-lanterns (tradition which originated with turnips in Ireland, by the way). We no longer do that fun and messy event. Why? Squirrels.
Whenever I would set my lovely artistic decoration outside it would be eaten by those nasty little imps. I assumed it was squirrels since the orange “fruit” was set high on the pillars of the porch. Deer couldn’t reach there and I didn’t think birds could gnaw that big of a hole. And squirrels? They are the bane of my existence.
Perhaps we shall renew that fun when the grands are older. I do miss making a mess – and I know “Pom” and I would still enjoy roasting those seeds!
Here’s hoping for a gentle Halloween night for the children and parents herding them round the ‘hoods. The week’s weather looks slightly promising.
One of the perks of sea level travel is that your food arrives hot to the table and remains hot for an extended period of time. You are not subjected to cold food within a minute of receiving it as you can be in the mile high city. And your coffee is hot without having to nuke it again! You can leave that mug and return a minute later to a still-hot serving. Amazing.
That’s just one of the advantages of visiting a lower altitude city. And if you are lucky to have some humidity with your visit, your skin feels so much better and your nose doesn’t run non-stop desperately trying to hydrate in the desert air.
Oh – along with the seasons I can also appreciate the various climate designations. I shall be returning soon to the mounds of pine needles to be raked and leaves to be mowed under. That’s just fine. Some of these things remind me to look ahead and prepare for life’s changes.
Fair thee well for I must leave thee, do not let my parting grieve thee,
but remember that the best of friends must part, must part.
Adieu, adieu, kind friends adieu, adieu, adieu,
I can no longer stay with you, stay with you
I’ll hang my hat on a weeping willow tree,
And may the world go well with thee, well with thee!
Heading out to the tune of “There is a Tavern in the Town.” I’m assuming there will be one? Soon to be reporting from the heart of history. I expect to be blown away – much the same as what it sounds like will be happening here today.
Toodles.
Thus it begins. The process of winterizing the porch and deck commenced yesterday.
Every year I drag furniture and cushions in and out, storing them in the garage for another summer. It’s a slow process because I only do a couple of things at a time, hanging on to the last vestiges of outdoor comfort. Additionally, our weather is supposed to be gorgeous for the next week, raising hopes of sitting outside in the rockers and enjoying an early sunset.
Oh, it’s on the way though. One tree totally devoid of leaves greets me each day while the pear trees cling to their cloaks. And I, I sit with my cup of coffee wearing a thick sweater on these crisp mornings, relishing in the changing of the guard.
Yes, a miracle has occurred and I’m riding the “Hope Mobile.” Furniture I had saved, thinking my children might want it because I so loved it, has actually found a home with my child! She is using it and it’s so pretty in my granddaughter’s bedroom.
Of course, there are other things which defy imagination stored here. I have tons of silver settings and assorted serving pieces, 20 some gold-leafed demitasse cups and saucers, three china sets, and glassware currently beyond measure – to bestow upon aforementioned children. Will they even want to touch those? Somewhat to my credit, I employ them all at various times of the year, with the exception of that silver business. If I have to polish too much, it’s most likely to be unused yet again.
The message of hope rings loud! Of course, everything I have is theirs. Just say the word, and that adorable tea towel could be yours, children. I’d even iron it.
There is a recording of the “Hallelujah Chorus” in which the organist strikes the worst chords imaginable at the end. It is hysterical because the choir sounds so beautiful and then, wham!
Some days are like that, I think. Beautiful – and then that ear-splitting error. However, the organist does resolve the chord and all is once again in harmony. And that it also how some days are. They do end with harmonious resolution.
Yes, getting all philosophical as I just finished a cup of coffee after having walked outside on this stunningly gorgeous morning, with the sky clear and starlit, planets visible. I think “The Chorus” came to mind as I viewed the quiet and beauty of the world. Thus, the rabbit hole of thought!
How those choristers managed not to laugh is beyond me. See if you can listen to this clip and paste business. If not – it’s worth investigating for a good laugh.
Happy Tuesday!
Isn’t this pretty and fun? I have a mantel, not white so I’d have to paint it. I have boxes for a base, and I can certainly acquire the candy, a seemingly easy task at this time of year. (Note the candy corn in the jar on the counter.)
My guess is that this lovely thought will remain pinned to a board in my Pinterest app, along with the recipes I’ll never make, the kitchen I’ll never have, and the funky clothing I’ll never own or sew.
Dreaming on an absolutely beautiful day…
The first thing that caught my eye was the photo in the Wednesday section regarding food and recipes. “That’s corn smut!” My reaction, which was correct. I just didn’t know the gourmet term, “huitlacoche.”
Anyone who ever had the advantage of earning the best wages around detassling corn in the summer (true fact) will understand the reluctance to even want to touch this fungus. I read the article with interest, and realizing I already consume a fair amount of fungus in mushrooms, penicillin, some cheeses, decided I probably would try this, perhaps only once, just to say I did it. Supposedly it has a mild flavor.
As long as I could restrain myself from thinking about walking a mile pulling tassels off of smut-stricken ears of corn, I might be able to stomach it. And of course, keep those “smutty” stories to myself.
