And the hits just keep on-coming… Monday evening, when I arrived to pick Emily up from her Flag Football game, she was balancing herself on her left leg with the foot of her right leg barely touching the ground — just enough so that she could stand. She half-limped/half-hopped to the car and climbed in. Apparently, during the game, she had collided with one of her teammates while they were both trying to grab a flag. Of course, the other girl walked away with nary a scratch.
Yesterday was one of those days. Sunday. A day to relax. Scott and I were planning to spend time in the backyard, doing a little yard work, catching up on our reading, snoozing and generally loafing around. Of course the weatherman had other ideas. Dark clouds loomed and within 10 minutes of my first sip of coffee, we had our first of several brief-but-intense downpours. It put a general gloom on the day. Don’t-cha just hate that?
Beef tenderloin. Lobster. Prime rib. Leg of lamb. Proteins that command attention, if for nothing but their price per pound. They are evocative of celebrations — a holiday, wedding, birthday or some noteworthy festivity. Both my French and Scottish grandparents made lamb for special occasions, as did my parents. Usually a leg of lamb — enough to feed a crowd. I loved it. I still do. Continue reading
I’ve made this admission before – I suck at pastry. It’s not a secret. I should probably just concede to the baking gods, but occasionally — when I’m feeling particularly confident, I’ll find myself giving it another go. Mixing flour and fat, forming a beautiful ball of dough. Flattening it into a disc, wrapping in cellophane and setting into the fridge to chill. At this point, I always feel like, “Yessss — I got it right this time.” Continue reading
I see you rolling your eyes. I hear that sigh. I know, I know — kale AND butternut squash — no person is that pious. Truly, I didn’t intend to go all “holier than thou” on you. I was just looking at the load of vegetables I bought at the farmer’s market this weekend and rather than letting them slowly deteriorate and mold in my crisper drawer, I channelled my inner Julia.