The smell of baking bread surrounds the chair I sit in, beckoning me out of my office and into the kitchen. Lately, I have been baking our bread in the oven rather than in the bread machine. Attila prefers the taste, and the cleanup is easier. As an added bonus, several consecutive loaves may be baked, without waiting for the machine to cool down.
The apples sit ready on the counter, ready to make their way into apple squares. I use the Mincemeat Square recipe, and substitute cooked apples for the filling. The filling only takes a few minutes to prepare from fresh apples. I use four or five medium apples, peel, core and slice them, add 1/4 cup of brown sugar and 1/4 cup water then simmer it all together until tender. When I remove it from the heat, I stir in 1/2 teaspoon of cinnamon.
I am preparing potato fingers, baked squash, and hot turkey sandwiches for dinner tonight.
Mist was just on my lap. She frequently visits while I sit at the computer. She stares at the keyboard, contemplating what appeal it could possibly hold, to keep my hands moving so rhythmically, to click click click with a steady tap. There are better uses for those hands, in her humble opinion. Petting is definitely a higher priority activity, and she insists that her priorities be honored. She is my all-natural solution to repetitive stress and fatigue, enforcing regular breaks for feline affection.
Attila is busy, busy busy. I spend a great deal of time with my computers, Mist, and myself. It works well for the most part, I like my computers, Mist, and myself very much.
Sometimes I worry though, because I do spend a great deal of time in an environment devoid of social ridicule, chaffing conventions, and the clawing and scratching of small souls seeking solace. I worry that the tough "thick skin" of indifference is softening.
For instance, no one comments daily on my looks. My weight is not a subject I am obliged to contemplate, unless the topic comes up in relation to my health.
Neither am I obliged to focus on fashion, soap operas, talk shows, extreme emotional reactions to news events, or a myriad of other human interactions that exhaust and deplete.
Luckily, I am a good listener. When I do find myself in social situations, listening to the interests of others is often a source of pleasure; one need not share an interest to enjoy another's enthusiasm.
There are times, however, when the reality of other humans can be a nasty shock. One would think that as age left its mark upon body and soul, immunity would build toward the sad examples of human behavior. I find quite the opposite. As the brevity and precious nature of our time here becomes increasingly obvious, so does the futility of unwise behavior become more evident. We have so few real choices in life, why not make them good ones?
|RECIPES :: Cast
"What do I care if some aging Himbo thinks I'm fat. A mirror for his birthday would serve him right."
© The AlterEgo Chronicles, 2002
Wind: S 9 km/h
Sunrise 7:45 AM EDT
Sunset 6:32 PM EDT
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