I just gotta point out that before smart phones, “exploring a new city” was completely different. Young people have no idea.
First, if you were driving there, you could get completely lost just finding the city, because you had to rely on maps—fold-out paper maps or atlases (books of maps). There was no Siri, there was no Google Maps, there was no MapQuest or Waze. There was no phone in your car. There were road signs and your own God-given sense of direction.
In the olden days, the absolute best way to explore a new city, was to meet up with a friend (or a friend of a friend) who lived there. If you were lucky, they’d let you crash on their couch. At night, they would take you to some local dive bar where you met their friends and got a feel for what it was like to actually live in their city.
In the day, you wandered around visiting record stores and coffee shops and tourist sites that you’d heard of by word of mouth (talking to other humans).
My friend Julie and me kicking around San Francisco in 1988. We stayed with a high school friend of hers. We’d driven up from LA where we’d also stayed with a friend in West Hollywood. Fortunately, it was hard to get lost on that drive up from LA. We knew if we kept the Pacific Ocean on our left, we’d get there eventually.
I don’t know if this is a known grandparent phenomenon or what, but something wild is happening now that my granddaughter is two. A real little person. Sometimes she looks or plays in a certain way and I get a total flashback to her mother at the same age, and to me as a young mom. For a fleeting moment, it feels like seeing a snippet of my own life 30 years ago.
Any other grandparents know what I’m talking about? And does it have a name? The feeling is like memory, mixed with pride, mixed with longing, mixed with so much love. Grandma déjà vu is not a good name for it, but it’s all I got.
My daughter and me (1997, I think)My daughter and my granddaughter this week
💕
But of course, your grandchild is not your child. They are their own new miracle of person. And your own miracle of a little girl has become this amazing unique adult woman, separate from you, and beyond your wildest dreams.
Just to be clear, “86” = impeach and remove from office (preferably to a jail cell). I’m also good with death from natural causes or Melania smothering him with a pillow. I do not condone violence (except for Melania smothering him with a pillow).
I’ve been going to PT and doing exercises for my foot problem (plantar fasciitis) for many months now. I think my heel might finally be feeling better. I’ve walked 1-2 miles a couple of times recently and it seemed OK. Here’s hoping I can get back to walking 3 miles daily soon—before the dreaded snow comes. This is prime walking season in Massachusetts. 👟🍁
In addition, I do a daily exercise to help prevent vertigo.
Finally, I do a bit of yoga most days. I have three 15-minute yoga videos in a playlist on YouTube that I do in rotation (one per day). These videos are the correct level of difficulty for me. (I’m not a Warrior 3 kinda gal.) The three videos together cover my five top stretches:
downward dog
seated twists to the right and left
warrior 1 & 2
forward fold
child’s pose
Warrior 3 is no bueno for me
Video 1:
Video 2:
Video 3:
I’ve tried this last video a few times and it’s a bit too advanced for me, but I really like this instructor. I may try to work my way up to it this winter.
Since food and I have had a good relationship for decades now, I sometimes forget about the early years. In my teens I was was pretty obsessed with being thin. Back then, there was a lot of interest in dramatic cases of eating disorders, especially Karen Carpenter’s death from heart failure due to anorexia nervosa in 1983 (my senior year of high school), but the casual use of Dexatrim (over-the-counter speed), starving yourself and occasional self-induced vomiting was no big deal. All the supermodels had protruding hip bones and thighs that did not touch. That was the goal. I remember a gym teacher talking to me once about being too thin. (I was 5’8” and about 118 pounds.) I thought I looked great. So did my boyfriend.
Thankfully, I mostly quit dieting in college and eventually got into swimming and was a pretty normal eater. I dabbled in vegetarianism, but I ended up consuming so much cheese that it elevated my cholesterol and I also developed lactose intolerance, which thankfully resolved. (Imagine a life without ice cream!) I now take a daily statin to control my high cholesterol, which I blame on my genetics. My parents both take statins, but at 87 and 92 they’re still traveling and eating whatever they want, so I’m not gonna worry about it.
I really love to eat good food now. We have a great relationship. Sometimes I try fancy recipes from the New York Times, but more often I make a few standbys that have like 4 ingredients and always come out great.
One of those is crockpot lemon chicken. A friend of mine once shared this recipe on Facebook and said “this sounds good” —and so it was. I’ve made this recipe dozens, if not hundreds, of times:
Crock Pot Lemon Chicken Ingredients 1/4 cup all-purpose flour 3–4 large boneless, skinless chicken breasts, cut into thirds 1/4 cup butter 1 packet Good Seasons Italian dressing/seasoning mix 1/2 cup fresh lemon juice 1/2 cup chicken broth Salt and pepper, to taste
Directions
1.) Rinse the chicken pieces with water, then lightly coat them in flour. Set aside.
2.) Heat 2 tablespoons of butter in a large nonstick skillet over medium-high heat. When the butter is melted, add half of the flour-coated chicken pieces. Avoid overcrowding the pan; you will cook the chicken in two batches.
3.) Season with salt and pepper. Cook the chicken for 3–4 minutes on each side, or until golden brown. You are not cooking the chicken all the way through at this stage, just creating a golden-brown crust.
4.) Remove the chicken from the skillet and place it in the crock pot.
5.) Add the remaining 2 tablespoons of butter to the skillet. Cook the remaining flour-coated chicken pieces for 3–4 minutes on each side, or until golden brown. Remove the chicken from the skillet and place it in the crock pot.
6.) Sprinkle the Italian dressing/seasoning mix evenly over the chicken.
7.) Pour the fresh lemon juice and chicken broth over the chicken.
I use these packets to make the broth
8.) Cover with the lid and cook on LOW for approximately 3 hours.
My crockpot works as a nonstick skillet too, so it’s literally a one-pot meal for me.
9.) Serve the chicken pieces whole or shredded, topped with the lemon sauce and broth.
Sometimes I serve it on rice. Other times I serve it on cholesterol-free (no yolk) egg noodles
RIP Karen Carpenter. I loved her voice so much. She was one of the greatest altos of all time. If only she hadn’t had such a fraught relationship with food, she would have been 76 now.
So far, the dreaded Nor’easter (windy rainstorm) has not been too bad here in non-coastal Greater Boston. Our power is still on. Most of the Bosc pears are still clinging to our tree.
The deer have been enjoying the ones that have fallen. And since I’ve never seen a fat deer, I’m going to go with “eat a lot of fruit” for my best healthy eating habit.
Mom is unconcerned with paparazzi. Bambi is a bit skittish.
Chewing
Those pears are so good, even Dad finally came out of the woods to try one.
Knock on wood that the storm doesn’t get too much worse and that coastal dwellers stay safe.
Photo credit to my husband on the last two photos and the video. He got a new phone (Google Pixel 11 XL Pro) and it’s got quite an impressive zoom feature in the camera.
1.) Set-up the coffee the night before so you only have to press start in the morning.
2.) Pre-made, roll out pie crusts, specifically these:
3.) If a British lady sits next to you on Day 1 of an adult watercolor class and announces to everyone that she has ADHD and then demands so much attention from the teacher and others that you feel like you’re being pranked, move your seat for the next class.
You know how people always say that you can tell if someone is actually a good person based on how children and dogs feel about them?
Well, I don’t love that, because I’m not a big fan of dogs. Does that make me a bad person? (I’m great with kids, by the way.)
Well, last night, I had an experience that improved my dog karma (I think). There was no actual dog present (yay), but I felt the dog’s spirit.
A wonderful church friend in her 80s had had to put her beloved dog Grace down earlier that day. At choir practice, she told us the meaning behind the dog’s name and a bit about her personality. (Apparently Grace disliked men, but was a peacemaker amongst dogs.) My friend then asked us to sing two different versions of Amazing Grace in honor of Grace the Dog.
It was so moving. I have honestly never heard our choir sing so beautifully. I’ve never sung so beautifully. There were tears, even from one of the men Grace constantly barked at while she was alive.
We sang all three verses of the song over the two renditions, the last one a cappella. Then we silently closed our hymnals and moved on with choir rehearsal.
How do you write what people actually want to read?
One of my recent posts was selected for “Freshly Pressed” on WordPress and I got some nice comments and a few new subscribers. It’s a post about baking a Dutch Pear Pie with fruit from the trees in our yard. So, welcome to anyone new here. I assume you love dessert like me.
I post about a variety of things, including baking, but mostly I just talk about whatever’s on my mind, including whatever the WordPress “daily prompt” elicits from me. I like the community here on WordPress. Most people are very kind and supportive.
We finally harvested some of the Bosc pears on our tree because a big Nor’easter (windy rainstorm) is expected this weekend.
Over 15 pounds of Bosc pears harvested and there are still many pears left on the tree.
The Bosc is the last of our fruit trees to ripen (we also have a Winesap apple and an Asian pear) and honestly, I think we should wait a bit longer to pick the rest of the pears. I don’t think the ones we picked are fully ripe yet, but that didn’t stop us from trying out another new recipe.
This recipe—for Pear Cobbler—is one I found on YouTube. I was able to screenshot the relevant information. (I’m sorry I lost track of the original creator.)
FRESH PEAR COBBLER
Pear Filling
• 4–5 cups diced pears
• 2 tablespoons sugar
• 2 tablespoons corn starch
• 1/4 cup water
• 1 teaspoon cinnamon
Batter
• 1 1/2 cups flour
• 1 cup sugar
• 1 3/4 teaspoons baking powder
• 1/2 teaspoon salt
• 1 1/2 cups milk
1. Combine the diced pears with the sugar, corn starch, water, and cinnamon.
2. In a separate bowl, whisk together the flour, sugar, baking powder, salt, and milk until combined.
3. Set the oven to 350°. Melt one stick of butter in a 9×13 baking dish.
4. Pour the batter over the melted butter (do not stir), then spoon the pear mixture on top.
5. Bake for 1 hour.
6. Serve with ice cream.
VERDICT: Very good. It think it’ll be even better next time with riper pears. We were wondering how this cobbler was going to “cobble together” since you don’t stir it, but it actually does. It’s definitely a bit of a pain to peel the pears, but you really have to with Boscs. We used a potato peeler.
What’s the most spontaneous thing you’ve ever done?
Sometimes in long marriages you develop certain “areas.” For example, I do all the travel arrangements. My husband is the vegetable gardener. I dealt with the teachers and most of the school stuff when the kids were growing up. My husband deals with the household technology (WiFi, etc). Somehow, I relinquished much involvement in his longstanding interest in buying (not leasing) solar panels for our home. I know I agreed to have him “sign for me” when the contract was finalized. It all sounded good in the 15-30 minutes I spent thinking about it. I mean, it’s a LOT of money to pay out at once, but we will allegedly get it all back in savings within 7 years. And clearly energy prices are not going down anytime soon with Orange Dipshit messing up the entire Middle East (and everything else).
But now the day has come. The guys are on the roof. It’s happening. I mean…I knew it was coming, but it feels a bit “spontaneous.” Like, are you sure you’ve thought this through?
I guess my one day of peace and quiet is all I get after our return from very loud Brooklyn.
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