Ignorance is bliss

We don't really know what we are doing when it comes to vegetable gardening in general, and particularly in Central Florida. However, each February the veggie muse demands we try.  

When we lived up north, all our energies went into maintaining perennial beds for flowers we simply cannot grow here. We thought we were successful gardeners, wise and gifted. Then we moved to Central Florida, which boxed our ears and scolded us harshly for our northern conceit. Quickly we learned we knew nothing. We surrendered to the heat and humidity, and figured out what flowers would or wouldn't grow. Veggies are definitely beyond us, though.  

Having said that, we try tomatoes each year. We live in hope. Occasionally we get a tomato or two, and we had good luck with cherry tomatoes one year. Last fall, Tom stuck a tomato plant in the ground. I knew it was too late to plant, but I said nothing. If he's happy, I'm happy. It grew, thrived even. Best of all, it overwintered and didn't die.  

Today I noticed one of the tomatoes is starting to turn red. Joy and rapture. Notice how unhealthy the bottom leaves look.  

Back in the day

My mother would have disapproved of Trump, Putin and the mean spirited hijinks of the current GOP. She had no respect for bullies, narcissists, and ruthless billionaires. She knew them for what they were, selfish monsters.

My mother-in-law was the same. She really hated liars and people who bragged about themselves all the time. She could spot a liar a mile away, and then she'd laugh and mimic them, thinking them ridiculous.

And they would NEVER have trusted a man who cheated on his wife.

Company coming!

I'm a terrible housekeeper, so there's a lot of advance cleaning when visitors come to stay. That's not a bad thing. This house needs attention and the anticipation of visitors is an excellent incentive. 

The days of the white tornado speed cleaning three rooms at once ended when I busted my kneecap. That's actually HOW I busted it. My days of getting down on my hands and knees to scrub are also over. There exist long, adjustable brushes to make these things easier for the kneecap challenged.  

Planning meals for the duration of the visit is a must. In doing so we have to find out if the guests have any allergies, preferences, aversions. We can't be surprised one of them has gluten issues after they've arrived and our freezer is full of wheat based treats. We need to know what they drink, if they prefer red or white, beer, or spirits. If we are aware they are cutting back on salt and/or sugar, we can adjust. 

Dinners are important, as are breakfasts. We are often out and about for lunch, or skip it because of a late breakfast. Interestingly, there's only so much one can eat in a day. Who knew?

We try to limit visits to 3 nights/4 days. After that, I start hallucinating. It has occurred to me there will come a time when having visitors stay with us will be nearly impossible to manage. I hope that's a long way off.  

Outside looking in

I don't watch sports, and I usually don't know who is playing at the Super Bowl. In fact, I only know there is a Super Bowl because it is the sale and promotion theme at the grocery store. You know, cakes disguised as footballs, chicken wings, trays of sliders, two for one chips.  

This year, like so many others, I was aware because I like Taylor Swift. I don't believe I've ever heard any of her music, but I like her style. I think she's a wonderful role-model or hero for the younger generations. The whole reissuing her own music thing is epic. It makes me smile. 

One of my nieces gave me a tip on a Taylor Swift album to start out with, but I've misplaced the text. Truthfully, I am reluctant to listen because I don't want to dislike her music. I'm happy liking her from afar, simply because she's a positive cultural icon.  

I especially like that the MAGA morons don't like her. It's fun to imagine what buttons she pushes that drive them wild.  

Winter is going

It is supposed to get to 82 degrees F (27.8 C) today. I'm a little sad. The weather since Christmas has been cold for Central Florida. I'm a northern transplant, so I fully realize how absurd it is to say that daytime temperatures in the 50s and 60s are cold. I do. Still, it meant nights in the high 30s and 40s some nights. That's blanket weather, my friends. I wore slippers and socks instead of flip flops. I even bought new slippers this year. What a joy it was to wear them.  

I need to get outside and start cleaning up the garden beds. That will make me happy for warmer weather.  

More January pictures:

Turtle on cypress roots

I wish I had a super duper zoom lens!

I don't know what he has in his mouth.

Cypress knees

The base of a very old live oak

Sick of being sick

We've been sick since Christmas Eve in my house. We seem to have contracted that unnamed respiratory virus that is making it's way across the country. The one that last for weeks and involves a ridiculous amount of coughing. We are finally on the mend.  

Eating our way towards tolerance.

I'm baking, but not cookies. Nope, NOT making cookies. I made a couple loaves of braided cheese and onion bread, and I just finished rolling up some Hungarian kolache. I am waiting for it to proof. 

Kolache shouldn't be confused with Polish kolacky, those are cookies. A kolache is a sweet bread filled with sweetened ground walnuts (or poppyseeds). It is rolled like a Swiss roll, but a Swiss roll is made out of sponge cake. Kolache has an odd yeasted dough almost like an enriched pie crust with milk, sugar and egg yolks added. A number of Eastern European countries seem to have a version of it with a different name.  

I am also marinading beef for Sauerbraten, which Tom and I will eat Christmas evening with spaetzle and red cabbage on the side. Our dinner is long after our daughter's family goes home on Christmas day. They come at noon for a good old Southern brunch with eggs, bacon, biscuits and sausage gravy.  

Last night we ate at our favorite Mexican restaurant. 

This is America. The great melting pot starts in the kitchen.

Love Gifts

When I was a young wife and mother, my grandmother was poor as a church mouse, but she once slipped me $20 so my cranky grandpa couldn't see. She whispered that it was a love gift. Times were hard. I needed that $20 as much as I needed her love. That loving sacrifice made an impression.

Independent of being a mother and a grandmother, I am a doting aunt and great-aunt, and by the grace of a random universe, we are also great-grandparents. 

Last year I mailed 6 packages to our young great-grand children, great-nieces and nephews. I actually used a hand truck dolly to carry them all in to the post office. This year I only have three to mail, because I ordered some presents to be delivered directly to a few young children in our lives. 

None of our presents are expensive. Young children don't judge presents based on money spent. They get excited to get a package in the mail. I simply want these children to grow up knowing they have two old farts living in Florida who love them. 

A St. Nicholas Day dream.

Last night I dreamt I was going someplace with a friend. I stood outside by the car waiting for her to come out of the house. She walked out and I heard her say, “Go away!” to something I couldn't see. Then, from around the back of the house, a decorated bull with large horns came rushing towards me. It hit me in the chest, and everything went black. I woke up. 

But get this, it was decorated like a Hindu sacred cow. The only thing it had in mind was to slam into my chest. Why? If it was real I would say it is simply a bull's nature. However, it was a dream, and I'm of the opinion dreams are our unconscious mind trying to tell us something super freaking obscure.

Today is December 6th, St. Nicholas Day. As a child, I put my shoes by the front door the night before, and lo and behold they were filled with candy, nuts, and fruit the next morning. St. Nicholas had visited our house while we slept!

My mother's grandparents were from Lorraine, France. This is a tradition that has been maintained in my family. St. Nicholas is the patron saint of Lorraine, and popular in Germany and Austria. 

Krampus is part of that medieval tradition, too. He is a companion of St. Nicholas. They represent a duality, good and evil. Good behavior is rewarded, and bad behavior is punished. Very effective message.

Because I have both a ridiculous sense of humor and a wild imagination, I think I was visited by Krampus last night. Darn!

My new favorite Christmas meme

Now go decorate any way you want, or not at all.