Well, here we’ve come to the end of another week. I suppose there must be some takes jangling around there somewhere.
My house is still in chaos, but we’ve managed to fall into a sort of a routine of taking ourselves off to my mother’s house in the mornings and coming back in the late afternoon to pick up the pieces of our shattered minds. Wait, is that a song? Part of the routine is moving seedlings in and out, depending on how hard it’s raining or how cold it’s about to be. This year, in a fit, I scattered the contents of a whole bunch of unmarked seed packets over a tray of dirt, just to see what would happen, and am now stressed that I have a lot of little plants growing up all over the tray, and no idea what any of them are. This is going to be another great year in the garden.
This is so funny. I’ve never made gnocchi but I’m sure I would be able to do it as badly–no question! Yesterday I made some sort of dubious ground beef in coconut milk, which was not terrible, but also not something I could recommend, having tried it. I boiled it a long time, hoping some of the liquid would go away, but it never did. Like the gnocchi maker, I salvaged the day by making pasta.
Why ground beef? Well, I can still buy it, and as long as I can buy and eat it I’m going to.
On the other hand, I would never want to see this beautiful animal made into ground beef. This is so wonderful. I wish I had room in my garden for such a clever creature. This tweet, surely, must mean that, eventually, I will be able to own such a cow, protecting me from all my enemies.
— Bill M Moore (@BillMoore20) April 30, 2021
We finally settled on a name for our own new big dog. I can’t remember if I said anything anywhere, maybe Instagram. We’re calling him Bunter, after the brilliant valet, Bunter, in the Lord Peter Wimsey books. He looks like a Bunter, and, more importantly, when we tried it out on him, he took to it most happily. Maybe it always was his spiritual name. Like Poseidon–the tiny ridiculous Chiweenie–Bunter is not the brightest bulb in the camera case. But he is always there at your side, gazing at you with the eyes of his soul, offering you a slobbery toy as if it were the most lovely opportunity in the world. If you indulge him, he will cling to the disgusting plastic with his powerful jaws while you try to wrench it away from him. When you win, and throw it off into the air, he gets it and brings it back and beats you about the arms and legs with it, and climbs into your lap to try to impress upon you the point. This could go on all day and I think everyone’s grades are suffering.
I am most happy with the acquisition of this dog because he doesn’t belong to me. Matt and Romulus (not his real name) are Bunter’s true loves. I have nothing whatsoever to do with his upkeep or happiness, and yet here he is, helping me not to be so crushed to earth about Ash. It’s helpful to have someone so cheerful and delighted with life, rushing up and down the stairs and insisting that you play or have a walk.
I was on the Ride Home with John and Kathy this week (40 min mark on Wednesday), talking about God being a stranger and us all being strangers, especially in the era of Covid–actually, I can’t find the podcast, but if you search around maybe it will pop up. And I was on the Stand Firm Pod to talk the Beth Allison Barr book some more. Jady didn’t hate the book as much as Matt and I did, so we talked about that.
Besides reading Mike Duran’s excellent memoir, I also got through two mystery books–an Ellis Peters who is so light and fluffy and just exactly the right amount of death and mayhem, and a more gritty Ian Rankin. I had never come across any of his books, except for reading all the 44 Scotland Street books, so when it was on sale on Audible I tried it. It was book number 20 in the series so I was a little off-kilter, but it was very good. Don’t judge me, I need that sort of thing to take the edge off.
And now I must rush headlong into the day. Go check out more takes!