Of course, there's the classic:

Maybe this one:

For kicks, because there's a pretty woman backup saxophone:



That alto sax is Kate St. John. She's just a few months younger than I. Now, I know I have worse genes than a lot of people, but really.

She works with Marianne Faithfull, which, if you're my age, gives you confidence in the resilience in the human race. The women, anyway.

Unanimously we will flow into the mystic.

Maybe we'll go with this one:



It soothes me, if not his mother.

I don't think that music exists to describe the conversation that passed between the boy's mother and I this morning. We're civil. We might even like each other, given time.

She doesn't sleep under stress, and I don't eat. We're very helpful.

What would you posit?

The outside scent is orange blossoms. Yes, the satsuma trees need spraying for smut.

Our big, bubbly, bouncing, blond 35-year-old baby boy is coming in.

I've been making space. I wonder if I could have fit into those black jeans I bought in 1991. Or breathed, if I did.

And I took those dresses I bought with my mother in 1990 off to a Baptist mission store. The dresses were pretty, still are, if more befitting a thirty-year-old than a 54-year-old, but they did represent the last shopping trip I took with my mother. She always pushed me a little harder than I would have gone, and I never regretted it.

The boy will be hungry, and that spells some serious expense.

When I married Lyman I thought I was surely out of the woods with children. I had chosen not to have any, he had a vasectomy.

April Fool's!

I don't typically think of myself in a rural area. We live in a small town.

But sometimes I do wake up to "moos". I don't know why these cows have been isolated in the lot behind a neighbor's house.

I am something more than halfway through John Julius Norwich's Byzantium: The Early Centuries.

Heresy, heresy everywhere.  We're up to our necks in heretics: Arians, Nestorians, monophysites.

And all those barbarians: Visigoths, Ostrogoths, Huns.

Western Emperors, Eastern Emperors, and lots and lots of murder -- families, rivals, possible rivals, traitors, so-called traitors, and whole stadia full of people.

And that's just halfway through the first book of the trilogy.

I have been talking to my BIG brother all day long.  His son picked up the phone and  said, "It sounds like one of your sisters."

Quit being such a punk, child, I'm coming with the gumbo recipe.

Ok, then.

My brother Charles and I are scheduled to fly to Portland, Oregon to see the Major Dude in May.  We tried last year, but Charles was put down with osteomyelitis.  That's gone.

If he can't go this year, that's too bad. I love the brother's wife. I have loved her since I saw her walking down the concourse from gate whatever at Love Field in 1966. Some combination of pleated beige chiffon and strawberry blond tripped my love button.

Lyman and I both went up in 2000 to feed the crowds for their first son's wedding rehearsal.  Lyman made red beans and rice, crawfish pies, and seafood gumbo.

I will carry those responsibilties on my shoulders.

When Mama cleaned her old round-shouldered refrigerator in the '60s, she'd empty it, take all the wire racks and enameled metal bins into the backyard, hose them down, swab them with a bleach solution, hose them again, then let them dry in the sun while she wiped down the box and defrosted the freezer.

With all this crappy plastic and glass, I spend twice as much time cleaning the fridge.

Lyman has his very first sauerbraten in the oven.  We are going to attempt spaetzle tonight.  I do not think we'll be doing it this way:

Okay, so my Valentine tulips are a little late.

Recipe.

Regarding the recipe: I had eight-inch pans when I made it before. They work fine. The proper size pan for the recipe is a nine-inch, which I have obtained since.

Tomorrow is my mother-in-law's 91st birthday, so I've spent most of the day working on an Italian Cream Cake.

It don't get any easier when you do it so seldom.

Let me preface this by saying that I have worked in newspapers, both weekly and daily. (No, never, I didn't work for the Dallas Morning News. Nothing that large.)

And I understand that the time pressures of publishing do push proofreaders to the max, but, can you make any sense of this sequence out of context?:

A group of women in down coats went through the door; behind them a quartet, the two men black, white haired, distinguished, both in suits as though they'd been to a board meeting, their while wives dressed in for coats.

It could be a too elegant expression about women the men were running with, but I don't know.

My husband fed me Susan Spicer's "Spicy Shrimp with Tasso Cream and Green Chili Grit Cakes" for after-Valentine's. We all doing just fine.

UPDATE: Scott provides a link to the recipe, p. 67.

I really shouldn't laugh, but here goes:

Yesterday, I took a tiny miniature rose bush, a pretty Valentine card and a Whitman's Sampler to Lyman's mother at the assisted living center. She'll turn 91 on March 5.

The great current irritant in her life is the woman in the next room over. A group of ladies were chatting after lunch one day when suddenly this woman stood up, looked directly at her and loudly said, "You're a liar, and you're lying right now!"

Girl was flabbergasted and hurt. She said the woman was hard to get along with anyway, and she'd made a special effort to be her friend. The upshot is that there are some papered-over bad feelings.

Now, Girl's memory is shaky. I suspect the other woman's is, too. Who knows what they've talked about or how they remember it, or how much they remember? Who could ever tell if they're deliberately lying? Girl can't even remember what she said to prompt the outburst.

Happy Valentine's Day!:

Sometime before Christmas I read Anne Perry's The Sheen on the Silk, a novel about Constantinople after the sack. I'd read many of her mystery novels.

Which led me to the history I finished reading about three weeks ago that I started on New Year's, The Fourth Crusade: The Conquest of Constantinople, from my brother's library. The book had a lamentable lack of a good map of Constantinople that was remedied by a reference to Wikipedia: Constantinople.

He also has the trilogy of the history of Byzantium by Julian Norwich, which I will read as time allows after he drops them by.

Commenters at Amazon say that Warren Treadgold is a readable historian who pursues more of the cultural aspects of Byzantium.

As a separate offshoot, Charles has a couple of books on the history of Venice.

If the illusions were pretty cool, this is WAY cool:



Have at it, Sarah. The kids will love it.

(Thank you, Nate McCord.)

Pierre saw his shadow -- a short spring and a long summer for Louisianans. New Iberians say Pierre's prognostications are strictly local for Acadiana.

Tomorrow is February 2:

Down in the swamp lives Pierre C.Shadeaux,
where the nutria tells how the seasons will go.
If the sun wakes him up on Groundhog Day,
summer comes early and spring goes away.

Happy Cajun Groundhog Day!

Because it's always good to be grateful, we gave a hefty portion back to Nancy, the hairdresser. She called to say that it's the best gumbo she's ever eaten. She wants to become Lyman's assistant.

The ducks were a wood duck, a small female mallard, and a shoveler.

Mmmm. Mmmm.

Lyman finished his duck and sausage gumbo last night.

It started weeks ago with him begging ducks from local hunters. Finally, our hairdresser's husband brought three ducks by on Thursday -- two wood ducks and a spoonbill. I took one look in the bag at those pretty little orange feet and pretty feathered breasts and said, "Tell me when it's over."

He plucked and cleaned those ducks in the kitchen, making less mess than the parrots do on any given day. I was pleasantly surprised at that. Friday he made the stock.

Then last night settled into the finish. He used something near this recipe.

It's good. Really good.

I've found this tutorial to be effective at achieving the line sketch effect in GIMP. I won't be using it this time.

Malgalin is good, but a little beyond my reach. I'll watch a cute young Aussie anyday, though.

Pretty cool.

(Thanks, Daily Dish)

It's been nearly 20 years since I worked much with graphics programs. I downloaded GIMP to work on the Groundhog Day card.

The big difference between then and now (apart from free software) is that I can find free tutorials online. Then I went to workshops at the Dallas Infomart.

UPDATE: But I can still get just as d**ned frustrated.

Neither Lyman nor I cared much for the paratha.

I admit to be being shaky on the execution, and the product was not beautiful. But it was the flavor that put us off. My experience has been with paratha stuffed with potato or cauliflower. And I used Madhur Jaffrey's suggestion to use 1/2 whole wheat and 1/2 white flour. I would have been happier with all white flour.

Tomorrow we'll try Onion Stuffed Paratha with Vindaloo:

Chicken Vindaloo

Ingredients
For the vindaloo curry paste:
2 t. whole cumin seeds
2-3 hot, dried red chilis
1 t. cardamom seeds
1 t. fenugreek seeds
1 stick of cinnamon
1.5 t. whole black mustard seeds
5 T. white wine vinegar
1.5 teaspoons salt
1 t. light brown sugar
10 T. vegetable oil or ghee (ghee is preferred)
1 large onion, peeled and sliced
5 tablespoons water

For the rest:
2 lbs. boneless chicken (I use thighs) cut into small chunks
a 1 ” thumb of fresh ginger, peeled and chopped
A small, whole bulb of garlic, separated & peeled
1 tablespoon ground coriander seeds
1/2 teaspoon ground turmeric
1 large russet potato, peeled and cut into 1/2″ cubes
1 bottle Bass Ale (optional)

Method

Vindaloo Curry Paste

Grind cumin seeds, red chilis, peppercorns, cardamom seeds, fenugreek seeds, cinnamon and black mustard seeds in a grinder. Put the ground spices in a bowl.

Add the vinegar, salt and sugar. Mix and set aside.

Heat half of the oil in a wide, heavy pot over a medium flame. Put in the onions.
Fry, stirring frequently, until the onions turn brown and crisp. Remove the onions with a slotted spoon and put them into the container of an electric blender or food processor. Add 2-3 tablespoons of water to the blender and puree the onions. Add this puree to the ground spices in the bowl.

The rest of it…

Dry off the chicken chunks with a paper towel and remove large pieces of fat, if any.

Put the ginger and garlic into the container of an electric blender or food processor. Add 2-3 tablespoons of water and blend until you have a smooth paste.

Heat the oil remaining in the pot once again over a medium-high flame. When hot, put in the chicken chunks, a few at a time, and brown them lightly on all sides. Remove each batch with a slotted spoon and keep in a bowl.

When all the chicken has been removed from the pot put the ginger-garlic paste in the same pot. Turn down the heat to medium. Stir the paste for another few seconds. Add the coriander and turmeric. Stir for another few seconds. Add the chicken, any juices that may have accumulated as well as the vindaloo paste and 1 cup of water or Bass Ale. Add the potatoes. Bring to a boil. Cover and simmer gently for an hour or so, until the chicken is tender.

We're substituting pork for the chicken this time.

Boring housewives need some glamour in their lives.

Yeah, yeah, I know. "Collard greens? Ewwww." "Hog Jowls? EWWWWW."

They were delicious with a sprinkle of black pepper, Tony's and salt.

Hog jowls run about $1.30 a pound in local supermarkets vs. nearly $4 a pound for hamhocks. We'll be using them more often.

Smoked neckbones are a fine seasoning meat, too, but they fall apart in cooking. Eating becomes an adventure of picking through beans or greens for bones.

Y'all, it's chilly here in the Deep South. Yesterday the temp never rose above 34F (that's 1.1C for you metric measurers). Today won't be much better, so I'm looking forward to spending the day in the kitchen making chicken and dumplings.

And today is our 17th wedding anniversary. Of the divorces I've known, most happened right after 18 years. So I'm on guard until 2013. Not for any cause, mind.

UPDATE: Exploring new depths in a mature relationship, we're adding collard greens cooked with hog jowl to the menu.

"Old man river, old man river..."

All right. I hope that Auburn appreciates that I am loaning my #1 Tiger fan to their base tonight:



But those War Eagles can go "weagle, weagle."

UPDATE: Auburn 22, Oregon 19

Good job, Charles Gore. Treats tomorrow.

And Mother Jones has done some reporting. What a novel idea.

I have read a lot of words in reaction to the shootings in Arizona this weekend, but the only ones that seem appropriate are the ones found in comments here.

The shooting is a political event for many people, but not for these.

Maybe I'll just leave this blog right here, with Alberta Hunter and two pretty redheads on the front page. Lucy's always in the mood.

Norman here is a nutria. Look at those feet.

Send the children to another room:

For contrast. I saw these men in a small concert hall in New York, about 1980. Full Indian regalia.

I read in comments to one of the videos that a person didn't like Aaron Neville's voice.

Someone replied, "Have you SEEN Aaron Neville? You gonna be the one to tell him he can't sing?"

Miss Alberta, young. What a woman.

I saw Miss Alberta in New York, about '81. Maybe earlier.

An interview with an older Miss Elizabeth here. I had the great privilege of hearing her play in person at Reed in or about 1975. She wrote "Freight Train."

She played left-handed upside-down. Didn't know no better, she said in concert.

Then I will.

I'm all up for suggestions to push the Christmas music off the front page on this site. We are into a new year. Scott? Paul? Sarah? I take in Gregorian chants, Jordana?

I like her.

Oh, shut up you drug-addled rock singer.

Have some Betty Crocker recipe pancakes and a dose of genuine maple syrup. The back bedroom is clear, and necessary toilet articles are in a basket beside the sink in the bathroom. Clean towels in the pantry behind you. I'll listen for your breathing.

Quip of the day from comments at Kimberly Stuart's blog:

Thank goodness I'm not the only one aging. It's like all mirrors have suddenly gone HD.

UPDATE: Let's change the name of this feature to "Quote of the Day," which is probably more accurate, and allows more leeway.

Kate has a good idea.

She was too busy to send out Christmas cards on time. Read the post and you'll see why. You'll also see that she brought up the idea of sending out Groundhog Day cards.

Now, I don't normally do cards. But it occurred to me that it would have been a welcome gesture to send cards to our service providers at the coast, particularly the cleaning service staff.

I'd like to find a good picture of Pierre C. Shadeaux to use for a card for Cajun Groundhog Day (even if Pierre is a nutria). Pierre does not predict the length of the winter, but the length of the spring. If he sees his shadow, we'll have an early summer.

Unexpected, fun and serves the same purpose.

(I did speak to the service people at the coast while we were there, but only to the manager of the cleaning service.)

The dinner menu: battered, deep-fried pork chops, black-eyed peas, mustard greens and hot water cornbread. Good luck to you, too, in the coming year.

My New Year's Eve plan is to fall asleep reading The Fourth Crusade, loaned to me by Charles the Brother. (Not Charles the Bird, aka Little Charles, Charlie Big Toes, and Charles Gore. Not to mention Punk.)

So if I don't post before then, I wish you all a happy, healthy, safe, prosperous, sweet new year.

I really don't need this weather today, as if I ever did.

UPDATED: Never mind. All past with hardly any rain.

My mama, on the other hand, ran her household like a drill sergeant. With seven kids to manage, she had to keep things in check. Five boys could have cleared her shelves in as many days.

She also used jelly glasses. Which I'd do if we ate that much jelly. Break or lose one, there's another in the refrigerator. Hard to make a set when you use up a jar of jelly in about three years.

Do they even sell jelly in glasses anymore?

My biggest peeve with the youngs of this household is that they don't respect the commons. Things -- glasses, towels, tools -- have a place and should be returned to that place for use in the future.

Glasses particularly. Oh, I (speaking for the house) own a set of water glasses if I can count those in cars, Natchez and Baton Rouge as a set. Kids don't even have to put them in the dishwasher. Just set them in the sink.

Ferals.

For ten years, I've been dragging around a ratty checkbook with tatty corners because it was loose in my purse. And I always carried another checkbook with a cheap bank cover because It contained my ID and cards.

So I splurged this year.

Now I am in control of my destiny (at the very least, my appearance at the checkout counter), come hell or high water. We've had some of both at the coast during the past decade.

I am becoming my mother.

It's in the way I touch fabric, or lean over the dishwasher, or want to rip all the Christmas stuff out right NOW, because the season is over. Over, I'm telling you.

Time for a new year.

In this day and time, people only get "Les Pauls" as gifts.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3BQyQ2ucUsA

For you, James.

Merry Christmas!

Santa's welcome to come rest for a lacy nog after he helps the fathers in the neighborhood with the trampolines. Our sons expect them to be working until about 4 am. Maybe later.

One of my guests is wearing Bulgari perfume. Right off, I'll say I favor her over the other persons in the house.

Christmas wisdom: responsible, home-owning 35- and 40-year-olds like $3 toys. Bingo was a hit.

Chef Tony, the rolls still aren't right.

Alrighty, then. I have my saf-instant yeast and my King Arthur Flour, so let's tackle this recipe for rolls again.

Time to step up now, guests coming Tuesday.

For Christmas, I want a checkbook cover for the beach account and to be successful at making these rolls. Santa can keep his sables, unless it grows colder.

Our young Texans will be passing through again on their way to Florida on Tuesday. They'll stay two nights. I like them.

My, that was a bracing walk across the parking lot to the pool this windy morning.

The morning or evening swim might become a habit when we're here in the future. Feels pretty good after working.

But I'm ready for the fireplace at home.

We are staying today. I have my suit. Sandra and I are going to swim (indoor pool), then we might have a Bloody Mary, and dinner tonight -- she has a disloyal boyfriend, a brother recovering from a severe motorcycle accident, and a case of the blues.

The girl needs some company. She's been lonely. Did I tell you that I like women? No, silly, not that way.

UPDATE: We've been taking care of details, but our first year renting through VRBO has given us a place in better shape than the rental company ever did. Our cleaners are better, and inventory is right on. I want to publicly thank the people who rented here for being so considerate. Merry Christmas, and Happy Holidays to you!

UPDATE: What a fool I have been. That was a lovely swim. Dummy, dummy girl.

60 degrees this morning. How nice.

Oh, for Pete's sake.

I was taking the tape down after I'd completed a repair to the bathroom ceiling popcorn when the tape stripped some paint off the walls. Out of respect for my dear readers, I'll not repeat what I said at the time.

At least the paint is here, unlike the gallon that I bought for the living room last time we were down.

Did someone take a hankering after Dover white walls? 'Cause it sure nuff ain't here.

40 degrees this morning. Much better. Expected high about 61.

Down at beautiful Orange Beach, Alabama, basking in a balmy temperature of 32 degrees. 22 last night. The snowbirds are threatening to move south.

Done, and done for.

The luncheon went fine. Now it's time to get ready for the second seating with a couple of young Texan visitors/overnight guests.

UPDATE: Do tell. We'd stocked in some commercial dressings in the event that Lyman's family didn't like the strong-tasting vinaigrette that we'd prepared. They loved it. His brother asked for the recipe.

I'm running low on elbow grease. Y'all have a good source?

Ray Charles and Betty Carter singing Baby, It's Cold Outside.

Decline the survey, play video at the bottom of the screen.

If it means getting off the floor, I refuse to do it today. But there are fifteen chairs worth of legs to be dusted, so I'm cool.

About those spoon rolls.

Goldy says, "Well, yeah!"

A lovely tender crumb that would be perfect with a dab of butter and jelly and a side of sausage. The baking powder is there, but not overwhelming. Less sweet than I thought. If you can't make rolls or biscuits (my hand is up), this is a way to go.

Not for this luncheon, but a possibility for a Christmas breakfast. Which will likely be around one o'clock.

Alrighty, then. On Friday we'll be serving the annual Christmas luncheon for Lyman's mother, his siblings and their spouses. The menu this year: shrimp cocktail, mixed green salad with black olive vinaigrette, deep-fried soft-shell crab with crawfish cream sauce, scalloped potatoes, and chocolate molten souffle. And whatever bread I can bake or buy.

If I live that long. I've been cleaning since past Friday.

Now I have plain white all-purpose flour, unbleached all-purpose flour, self-rising flour, cake flour, bread flour, whole wheat flour, rye flour and masa flour. Soon I'll have unbleached bread flour. And plain all-purpose yellow corn meal, because cornbread is the best.

Second batch is as lousy as the first. I'm retiring this recipe until the King Arthur supplies come in. I'm an okay baker and it puzzles me no end why it isn't working for me.

So, Goldy, you think we should try some spoon rolls? You know they'll be too sweet. But we're curious, aren't we?

We'll lay in some powdered milk and potato flakes, and try these tomorrow.

A bit of interesting information from King Arthur Flour about how an "active baker's" kitchen has enough wild yeast about that bakers can reduce the amount of yeast they add to dough:

Basic flour-water-yeast-salt doughs (which may also contain a bit of oil and/or sugar), such as those for baguettes, focaccia and pizza, are the best candidates for an all-day countertop rise. Keep in mind, however, the vagaries of your own kitchen. If you bake bread all the time, your kitchen is full of wild yeast and any dough you make there will rise vigorously. If you seldom bake bread, or are just beginning, your kitchen will be quite “sterile;” your dough won’t be aided by wild yeast, and will rise more slowly than it would in a more “active” kitchen. We’ve found that here in our King Arthur kitchen, where we bake bread every day, we can cut the yeast back to 1/16 teaspoon in a 3-cup-of-flour recipe and get a good overnight rise. In a kitchen where bread is seldom baked, we needed 1/2 teaspoon of yeast to get the same effect. Use your judgment in rating your own kitchen as to “yeast friendliness.”

Ummm, that didn't do so well on day one after mixing. Auntie Bear forgot to fold the dough a few times before shaping the rolls for final rise. Good flavor, though.

But Auntie is only baking four rolls at time, so she can practice.

UPDATE: Day two's look the same. I've emailed the baker for an opinion. That's an opinion other than "Girl, them's a mess."

UPDATE II: Frank from King Arthur's castle says I used the wrong yeast. He approves of my using active dry yeast bloomed in part of the water, then proceeding according to the recipe.

The recipe calls for instant yeast. Fleischmann's (what I can buy here) makes no distinction between instant yeast and their "Rapid Rise" yeast, but King Arthur's does.