OK, the good thing is: We get Mother’s and Father’s Day over within a few weeks of each other. Then I can revert to standard grump mode, as opposed to raging about the nonexistent parenting in my long-ago past. Even I realize this last hurts me as opposed to anyone else, especially those no longer… Continue reading And now, Father’s Day. Also, best fruit salad ever. With no added sugar!
A friend who’s had a much harder row to hoe with her breast cancer than I, says she doesn’t know if she’ll ever be back to “the old me” after chemo. I was lucky enough to skip the chemo; just a lumpectomy and 15 radiation treatments for me. So I’m thinking I don’t necessarily want… Continue reading The “old me” and best poppyseed dressing ever
If you’ve never tried to get smaller or fitter, you don’t know what a challenge this is. Not a floating-in-the-Mediterranean-with-no-life-jackets challenge, but difficult. Not a drug or alcohol rehab challenge but difficult. The advantage I have over the re-habbers is that the harder I work, the better I feel. I don’t think that happens as… Continue reading The road not taken nearly often enough; build-a-breakfast
I. Love. Boxing. Not to watch but to do. Wish I’d known 40 or 50 years ago how much fun it is to safely smash things. We have two teenage boys in our little class at the Y, and I’m trying not to slow their cage-fighting career progress. Last night (first class) I had my… Continue reading All Aboard the Weight Watchers Express
Family lore has my dear Stoic the Vast making two unforgettable ice cream gaffes: He put whole blueberries in the ice cream maker once upon a time (they freeze into navy-blue bullets), and he made ice cream with buttermilk. Even the cats wouldn’t eat it is the “happily ever after” on this particular fairy tale.… Continue reading Strawberry ice cream that’s a breeze to make
At the tire store yesterday to get a pickup tire patched, I bought this spring’s first local strawberries. (Hey, in our neck of the woods, it can pay to listen to the old men chatting amongst themselves!) They were perfectly ripe and sweet, he obviously picked them before the drenching rains hit, and I had… Continue reading Strawberry pie; pork and cabbage salad
Somehow we associate baby pastels with springtime, yet when I look outside, I see primary colors: The sky, of course, is Carolina (ick, go NC State!) blue and the baby maple leaves, red before they’re green. The intense yellow of the wild mustard and forage turnips, blanketing Iredell pastures as well as the meadowlark breasts turned to… Continue reading Spring is not for sissies, strawberry crisp