Skip to main content

Evening

I'm in bed.  It's 9:27pm and I think perhaps I couldn't be happier.

Tonight when we were all sitting around the table talking about the best things that happened to us today, I couldn't come up with a fast response.  John smiled and said, You're best thing hasn't happened yet, right?

Nope.

Phoebe said, Mine sure hasn't.  The best thing that happens to me each day is I get to get into PJs and climb into bed.

Oh, yes, she may look exactly like John (girl version), but she's definitely my daughter sleep/bed wise.

So tonight after my day was over (and yes, I did vote), I just climbed into bed and the best part of my day is beginning.  And no, I'm not avoiding the elections because frankly, I'm ok either way.  I know, how could I be?  Well, I just am.

But enough of politics.

Here is a poem I found today that made me stop, completely stop, and breath and fall in love with words all over again.

William Eggington quote this poem in his article "Fellow Citizens and the Saints."  It's an excerpt from the poem titled Evening by G. K. Chesterton

Here dies another day
During which I have had eyes, ears, hands
And the great world round me;
And with tomorrow begins another.
Why am I allowed two?


I wonder that exact thing.

So if you notice I have a new name for my blog . . . oh wait, I have a new blog.  My old blog, epicruiousmothering, died.  Dead. Gone forever.  Oops.

After it became apparent that it was never coming back, I felt a tiny sense of relief.  A new beginning.  A clean slate.  A chance to make something different.  Plus, my sisters have gathered almost all of my old posts up until the end of last year (I love sisters--both in-law and outlaw).  Yep, that did seem to ease the sting.

I have this plan that I will put up a recipe and thoughts each day for 100 days.  We'll see how well I do.  What's life but for challenges and dares, right?  At least that's what Henry's always telling me and  fifteen year olds know everything . . .

Savory Meatballs

1-11/2 lbs lean ground beef
1/2 onion chopped
1 egg
2/3 c bread crumbs
1/2 tsp sea salt
Fresh pepper to taste
1/4 tsp nutmeg
1/2 tsp thyme

mix mix mix until it's perfectly mixed

In a greased (with a little bit of butter) non-stick pan (because they're never really non-stick after the first use), make the meat into balls and brown on all sides.  Put on a cover and turn the heat to low and let simmer 20-30 minutes.

I serve with baking potatoes that I've cooked at 350 degrees for 1-2 hours (sometimes I forget); corn with salt; salad with ranch dressing; and Cauliflower and Cheese Sauce.

Here's the Cauliflower recipe:

1 head of Cauliflower cut into little bunches
Steam for 20 or so minutes or until softened

Cheese cream sauce 
In a small sauce pan over medium heat:

3 Tbsp butter melted
1/3 cup flour

Combine to make a roue (play dough like mixture)

Slowly add 1 c milk and stir until thickened

Add if it becomes too think (usually need to add about at least another 1/2 c).

Once it becomes thick like a thick soup, add 1 c grated cheddar cheese.

Mix until melted and the pour over drained and cooked Cauliflower.  Serve quick.

Oh, it's delicious.  It's like health mac and cheese.


Ok, my eyes are totally shutting on me.  Long day.  But  a good day that's leaving me wondering at my chance to have another.

Comments

  1. So happy you are blogging again! Yay!!!!

    ReplyDelete
  2. I missed your blog and am glad that you have a new one...have a great 2nd day :-)love from HH

    ReplyDelete

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Forced Frugality

  We are going on ten months of looking for a job.   Last September, after a rather horrid ten months, John got the boot.  It was oddly and rather unfairly done, but a great relief to all of us.  Working at that company had become a puzzle that grew harder and harder each day until it was in fact, impossible.  The stress of it took a wild toll on John's mental and physical health.  By the end, he was neither eating nor sleeping.  He had strange episodes of racing heart and an inability to tell what was real and what was imagined.  I sat him down and told him I would use up every penny of our retirement and sell the house if it meant he could stop working in that environment.  And it may take all that.  And I still won't regret it.   When I feel rather sorry for myself, I remember what life was like for him a year ago and then I don't feel sad that I am once again digging through my closet to find a new way to wear old things.   In fact, there is part of me (small though it

The Best Kind of Tired

  My often daily life . . . (John is two feet away—I can’t do all of them by myself) Last week, every single time I sat down, I almost instantly fell asleep.  I kept telling John, I have the sleeping disease.  What is going on?  Am I getting old?  Is it the covid after effects?  What on earth? He didn’t have any answers for me because he was doing the same thing.   We didn’t really do anything for seven days straights.   And our kids joined us in the sleepy, do nothing, lazy slug bug state. It wasn’t until this morning as I was looking over the pictures of the summer that I realized why. . . We literally haven’t stopped ALL summer long—one awesome amazing trip/visit/fun after the other.  It’s like we are making up for last years “staycations.”  Holy hannah have we ever made up for it.  Just about did ourselves in playing and hugging and kissing and caring for babies. Highlights of the summer (in no particular order): Cousin sleepovers have resumed (most missed activity since the pandem

Midlife-Cri-sis

It's been a year.   I'll sum it up by saying that food no longer tastes good to me.   The last time that happened, I had lost three pregnancies in a row and John had lost and found a job and we had moved three times. The feeling is very similar.   There have a been a lot of losses or near losses.  Enough that when the phone pings with a text or vibrates with a call (I long ago turned off the ringer), I take a deep breath and think, you can do this .  More times than not, I need that deep breath. I am probably in the second half of my life and I feel it.  47.  My children are nearly grown.  My house is established.  Our bank accounts don't fluctuate like they used to. I don't go to the store and dream of being able to buy things.  I walk into my closet and wonder what I can do without.   I feel the finality of my existence and I wonder . . . what do I really want out of all this?   For book club, we read A Million Miles in a Thousand Years .  It's about re-writing o