Cooking with Grandma

Granddaughter E is 18. I invited her over to make paella. Cooking is a way to spend time alone with her; a way to lure this great beauty over and have her company all to ourselves. 

Yes, we have a paella pan. No, we're not sticklers for tradition. We're Americans, for crying out loud. We live in small town USA, a gastronomical wasteland that would have us exist on fries, hamburgers, and pizza, with an occasional side of coleslaw. We could shop in Orlando, but who wants to drive that far? We make do with what we find at our small Publix. 

I did order saffron and real-for-real paella rice online. We had clams (the only ones at the store still in their shells), shrimp, sausage, and chicken. I confess we used deboned chicken breasts. I know, I know, it should be actual chicken pieces. Most in my family only want white meat, and do NOT want to work hard to eat it. 

E made it, with me hovering nearby. I forced myself to turn away, bellowing "tips" and encouragement, helping her read the recipe, things like that (!). You should have seen her chopping garlic. The kid's a natural.  

She took finishing the top as a creative challenge. In her world, paella has a face. Peas are served separately so those who hate peas avoid them, and those who love peas sprinkle them over the top. 

One family member has a shrimp allergy, so Grandpa cooked shrimp separately, too. Like I said, we make do.

Nice job, my luv!

Just before it went into the oven.  

It's nice to feel cold, for a short while

It's 10:07 am in Central Florida today, and it is only 44 degrees F outside!  The high for today should be 60.  What a glorious time of year it is.  This is really the closest we get to a change of seasons, and I like to enjoy these cool days as much as I can. What a joy it is to put a quilt on the bed at night, to wear cozy socks, to throw on a comfortable sweater.  

My husband, on the other hand, would be happy if it was always warm and sunny.  

I am not writing this to brag, or to irritate those of you who have feet of snow and sub-zero weather to contend with. I remember how hard winter (especially a long, frozen January) used to be when we lived up north. In fact, I often miss the snow and cold during these winter months. I enjoy seeing pictures of the snow.  So beautiful! 

I'm just writing about my day, my life, my thoughts. It's my blog, I get to say whatever I want. I like that, too. 

Cheers!

It boggles the mind

 What I know after living through 4 years of Trump: 

At least half the voters don't really care about the issues, the public good, or the bigger picture. They specifically don't choose their candidates based on logic. They support people who normalize their base qualities. It's an emotional response, not an intellectual one.  

That's why you can talk until you are blue in the face, present all the "facts" and "proof" in the world, and they will not listen. You can't convince people like this because they make decisions based on their belief system, not with their logical mind.  

So how do you change their stance, their views? You present something that grabs them by the heart - challenging their belief system. Be prepared for anger, though. Belief systems are murky and primordial. 

Consider Boris Johnson.  He recently turned off a lot of his avid supporters by being caught doing something as simple as going to a party during COVID shutdown, after telling everyone else to stay home.  

It's a bit more complicated in the U.S., where Trump would never tell people to stay home or mask up, but I did notice that he was booed at one of his ridiculous "rallies" recently for telling his supporters to get vaccinated.  

Many thanks to Steve at Shadows & Light for making me think about Boris this morning.

How did you navigate the highway of life?

I've never gone to a high school reunion.  I loved high school, but I'm still in touch with most of the people I hung out with back then. If I went to a reunion I'd have to mingle with the people I didn't particularly admire or like. No thanks. Call me bitchy, but you know: Ick!

As a freshman, I ran for student council and won. That's because I went to two different feeder schools in 8th grade, so a lot of people knew me. Name recognition wins elections. I tried to be normal and fit in with the electable crowd. But in all honesty, being normal and acceptable seemed like the death of the spirit. Those girls were all trying to act like adults.  

Towards the end of my first semester, I noticed a group of girls who were less "popular" and more "edgy." They were often in my art classes. They were loud, mouthy, and super damn fun. I chose them! We acted like wild teenagers for as long as we could. Fifty six years later, they are still my friends, even though I've lived hundreds (sometimes thousands) of miles away from them since young adulthood.  

Oh, the fun we had. The mischief we caused. It was a hard, frenetic road, but we zigzagged across it until we had kids. For better or worse, children change everything. I'd go into detail, but now I have grandchildren. This is why it is SO important to act like a teenager when you are a teenager. Once you have kids, adulthood never freaking ends.

The Oddest Holiday

Tom got a chill on Dec 22nd. The next day he woke up feeling poorly.  By the morning of Christmas Eve, it was clear he wasn't up to celebrating.  Mostly, he had a sinus headache, runny nose, fatigue, and muscle aches. It might have been a cold, but I never got it.  That seems odd.  

We'll probably never know what it was. I tried to get home testing kits for COVID, but absolutely no pharmacy had one, either in store or online. Even Amazon was sold out. On Christmas Eve I tried to schedule a drive through test and was told the soonest appointment was January 2nd. 

My niece had extra kits, so she and her mother (Baby Sister) kindly sent us a kit as soon as the post office reopened, Monday, Dec 27.  It didn't arrive until December 31st.  That was 10 days after Tom first noticed symptoms. It tested negative. But now we don't know if that means it wasn't COVID, if he was no longer testing positive because it has been so long, or if it was a false negative.  

Although he was never seriously ill, we had to assume it was COVID in order to behave responsibly, so we stayed home and didn't spend Christmas with our daughter or her family. I drove the gifts over (fully masked) and left them on their doorstep. They (fully masked) brought our gifts outside for me to transport back to our house. We opened presents over FaceTime. 

If it was COVID, I'm so glad we got vaccinated and booster shots, because he's fine now. We went on a bike ride this morning to try and start this new year out right.  

Happy New Year!

Christmas letter

I just wrote a variation of this email message to a few old friends. I thought it would do as a Christmas message to the blogosphere. You can see how my mind wanders in my dotage. I imagine that will only get worse, and even more self-indulgent as time goes on.  Sigh.

Dear {Friends},

Are you all making Christmas cookies? I'm having a hard time doing so, although my German and French ancestry will not let me ignore the responsibility. Actually, it turns out (DNA test) I'm as much Scotch Irish and English as I am German, with a smattering of Welsh and Norwegian (for crying out loud). The French is Lorraine, so it's more Frankish than French. 

Anyway, yesterday I made the dough for Linzer cookies. I'm so hoping when the time comes to roll them out and bake them, I can talk Tom into doing it instead. He was the cookie baker at {Bakery} in its glory days. He could make them much better than me, heh heh. Were you guys in {City} in the early 80's?  Tom was there, living in a rural commune, as early as 1969.  My first time there was 1971. We arrived for the long haul in 1975. So long ago.

Today we make cut out cookies and the kids arrive at 1:00 to decorate them. I suppose I will clean the house. I wonder if I actually will? I'm beyond lazy these days.  

According to their local paper, there are currently 2,589 active COVID cases in {County}, NY.  Wow!  

You are all in my thoughts. And if I could figure out who to pray to, you'd be in my prayers as well. But maybe heartfelt thoughts ARE prayers? I don't know that for sure, either.  

This is really such a hard time of the year. I never know whether to laugh or cry.  

Cheers,

Colette

P.S.  Here are pictures of some crazy Florida flowers in bloom right now.  Aren't they amazing?

Color and Light

Well, we put the tree up and I'm glad we did. The lights work the magic. Now I'm in the holiday mood. I guess it has always been that way with winter holidays nearest the solstice. Not to diminish the religious or cultural aspects of many of these holidays. Whatever floats your boat!  We humans seem to need light and hope during this darkest time of the year.  

I love white lights against a dark green tree. Even then color is everywhere. Cards, trees, ornaments, candles, and all sorts of family decorations only taken out and displayed at this time of the year. I take great joy in trees others put up with this peaceful and elegant lighting; however, I'm a sucker for color. A glutton, really. The more colors, the better. I also like shiny, glittery, encrusted ornaments.  

When I look at our tree I want to be jolted, as if I just had a shot of espresso. But that's just me.  

What is just you?  

What the heck?

Every year I think "I'm not going to bother putting up a Christmas tree, it's too much work."  Same with Christmas cards.  Every year, the same reluctance.  Every year I cave in and do the work.  

If we didn't have grandchildren who came over on Christmas day for brunch and presents, I think I'd be able to withstand the pressure to decorate.  The grandson has been asking if we put our tree up.  He seems a little anxious, like he can read my mind and he can see my reluctance.  

It isn't that I don't love the holiday or a decorated tree.  I do love every bit of it, except for the hard work of staging the holiday.  

I remember when my hair was brown

I looked in the mirror this morning when I woke up, and suddenly remembered when my hair was brown. It is gray now, of course. I like the gray, the lightness of it, the way it softens my aging face, and especially how little maintenance it requires.  But the brown hair used to deliver a bit of contrast and drama to my looks.  

Those brown haired days are over. I can compensate for the loss of drama, certainly. Being dramatic is my superpower, when I can tamp it down and not scare people away. Contrast, however, is another story.  Lipstick might work, but sheesh. Why would I bother unless I'm going out? My husband might be amused, IF he noticed. Blush? Nah. Too Miss Havisham like.  

Although...  With my gray hair being so long, I could definitely dress up like Miss Havisham next Halloween. I would just have to locate a cheap and shabby wedding dress. Ah, but she's such a downer. Surely there's a better gray haired, drama queen role model?  Know of any?

Martitia Hunt as Miss Havisham

A quiet time

Tom and I went away for a week. We rented a beach house on Crescent Beach, which is on Anastasia Island just south of St. Augustine. It was cool, overcast, and quiet. Exactly my cup of tea for a fall vacation. Our daughter and grandson came for an overnight, but most of the time we were alone (as per usual). I love this quiet life in retirement.  

Yes, we took Murray the cat on vacation with us

The place we stayed, a funky little bungalow

the walk way from house to beach

The end of the walkway

Crescent Beach

a natural pattern in the sand

St. Augustine

Christmas decorations at a martini bar

boat

Pirate photo opp in St. Augustine

"Built by the Spanish in St. Augustine to defend Florida 

and the Atlantic trade route, Castillo de San Marcos 

National Monument preserves the oldest masonry 

fortification in the continental United States"

Old Town, St. Augustine

sunrise 

sunrise 

Crescent Beach

my footprint