Monday Morning Musing

In a rare fit of determination, I went to the movies yesterday afternoon. This is significant because I probably attend 2-3 movies at a theatre in a year's time. The movie I had made this extra effort for is "Julie & Julia"..... the one about Julia Child and Julie I-Forget-Her-Last-Name cooking all the recipes in "Mastering the Art of French Cooking" in one year.

It was a really good movie and I'm glad I got to see Meryl Streep work her characterization magic. It was funny and heartwarming and all that. But I'm just going to tell you: if I thought I had to take a cookbook and fix every recipe in it in a year just to get a handle on my life, I'd probably be in the looney bin before the second week. I can't imagine coming home 365 NIGHTS to fix some long drawn-out French recipe. Hell, it's all I can do to make myself go to the grocery store every week. And half the time, I don't come back with anything really edible.

So, while I -- like Julia -- LOVE to eat, I'm still not going to stay in the kitchen. If I want really good food, I'll save up the "egg money" and go to a nice restaurant.

Meditations on Yard Work

Well, after I "freshened" yesterday, I did mow grass. And I mowed some more this morning. When there are ACRES of lawn, it takes the efforts and time of more than one. I do a little; my mother does a little; my husband does a little. It's torturous. Especially if you're not a yard person like me. I have told everyone who would ever listen that the only reason I have a yard in the first place is for my dogs. A few pots of flowers would do me just fine, thank you very much. If I needed more nature than that..........well, isn't that what they have parks for?

Only rich people should have large (or in our case, EXTRA LARGE) yards -- and the yard men or service to go along with them. Seeing as how I'm not rich, nor am I ever likely to be, I have two options. Move or do it myself. I think maybe I should be working on that move aspect. I'll put that on the overlong, overdue list.

To Nap or Not

Many years ago, I used to take a nap every day after lunch. Then, life got crazy, crowded and chaotic and I quit. Just got out of the habit. I'm thinking of reinstituting the nap hour though. It's all a part of staying "fresh" I think. If my mind gets all fuzzy after lunch and my brain slows down, I figure that must be a sure sign of "staleness".

After my foraging of the morning (also known as grocery shopping), I had thought I might bite the bullet and mow some grass. God knows, there's plenty of it to mow. But no. Now that I've eaten, I've determined the grass can wait. I need to freshen up my mind instead.

Another Thought

I read this yesterday: "Don't fear starting fresh. Sometimes a fresh start is the only answer."

So, today, I want to be FRESH. I don't want to feel all stale and fried like McDonald's french fry grease from last month. I'm starting by writing this. And while I'm out doing those 2 dozen errands today, I'm going to mediate on "freshness"..... what road will take me there and how I'll know when I've arrived.

I also will have the A/C turned up full blast............

I Hate Summer!

Really. No kidding. It sounds crazy because most people love summer: the swimming, the boating, the golfing, the hiking, the......whatever. Those lazy, crazy, hazy days of summer. Sorry, I'm not buying it. Here in the South, it's nothing but heat, humidity and sweat. I don't like any of those.

Summer saps my energy, makes me lethargic and dull. All my vim, vigor, zest and creativity are enveloped in the steamy outdoors, never to return till October. It makes me cranky and wears on my nerves. And I've been this way since June.

I've had enough. It's almost mid-August and we still have weeks and weeks of summer weather. I'm fighting back. No, I don't know how. But I'm tired of being just a puddle on the floor. I WANT SOME COOL FUN. And I'm going out and find some!

LOVE the Races!!

If I ever get filthy rich, I'll be dangerous. I'll be wearing big, showy hats at the Derby; eating lots of fresh crab at the Preakness; and singing "New York, New York" at the Belmont. But don't hold your breath. I'm not. My lottery tickets have all been duds so far. I don't see that changing any time soon.

I'm sad. I really had wanted Calvin Burell to get his personal triple crown today. It didn't happen, although he gave a good ride. Mine That Bird's brother, Summer Bird, beat him, but not by much. Calvin just has that joie de vivre that makes me smile. Perhaps he'll be another Willie Shoemaker and ride for a long, long time. I hope so.

One thing I am happy about though: Rachel Alexandra's owners had the good sense not to run her. I feared for her safety at a mile and a half. Apparently, they thought that might be a little much as well. I love to watch horse racing. But I love to watch healthy horses more. So, I hope that the racing community will continue to birddog their trainers, jockeys, owners, etc., forcing them to put the welfare of their horses first, not purses. Yep, those purses are big. But the question of ethics is bigger.

The Baker's Dozen....

Actually, dozen and a half....cupcakes. Good cupcakes; strawberry ones. Made with very fresh "from the farm" strawberries. Recipe called for yummy sounding cream cheese frosting. With 3 sticks of butter and 8 oz of cream cheese and almost a whole box of powdered sugar. Plus, more fresh strawberries and a little strawberry jam.

Alas and alack, I don't think the frosting is quite right. Somehow, I did something to it. I'm guessing I didn't beat the butter and cream cheese and sugar together long enough. But how do I know? I'm not the best cook around and obviously FAR from the best baker. If I was, first of all, I'd know how to avoid this problem and secondly, I would know how to fix it if I didn't avoid it. I don't know either of those things. You'd think that by this age I would have learned SOMETHING.

Consequently, my wonderful strawberry cupcakes that I worked all morning to make the old-fashioned way FROM SCRATCH will now taste sort of like SCRATCH. No frosting unless we want to just slather the top with this butter-based concoction that's passing for frosting sitting in my refrigerator right now.

This is really when I wish my grandmother was still around. (Not my mother; she's not all that terrific at baking either.) I need a note from heaven about the finer points of frosting making. For next time. And yes, I guess there will be a next time....sigh.......