Feet Know Where They Want Me

It’s 10:05 p.m. Pete and I finally just sat down and put our feet up after a grocery shopping trip to the Pathmark of the Damned on Route 1 in Edison, where nothing was on the shelves and zombies shambled through the frozen foods aisle. I’m so tired I could sleep for a week, but I’d wake up to find my stepmother Darla on the welcome mat and she’s got the appetite of a linebacker. Obviously, I should get up and go cook something. Today is the Solstice, we just saw lightning and the sky just opened up. Topaz has curled up on my lap while Sweetpea snores gently to my right. About two weeks ago:

Tata: I love you to bits, but it’s time for me to throw my crinolines over my head and –
Miss Sasha: MOM! It’s bedtime for the kids and we have to leave.
Tata: Oh, thank Demeter, it’s time for Grandma to start drinking –
Miss Sasha: MOM! Panky repeats everything! Don’t say that or I’m going to get phone calls from pre-school.
Tata: Then make sure he pronounces everything correctly: It’s time for Grandma to start drinking.
Miss Sasha: MOM! I’ve got a toddler under each arm and I’ll break down the door with my forehead if I have to.
Tata: Good night, my darlings!

There’s more than one way to get some peace and quiet.

Over At the Frankenstein Place

Pretty Buckwheat is smart, too.

On Wednesday, I was deliberating on a riddle –

Q: What walks on four legs in the morning, two legs at midday and three legs at twilight?
A: Wrong riddle. Try again.
Q: How much hip pain would keep me from working at the food pantry?
A: Mmmm, exactly as much as I have now.

– while making dinner for my Handsome Husband, and as I was rough-dicing sweet potatoes the power went out. The only light in my kitchen was the flame under an empty pan into which I dropped chopped onions and diced sweet potatoes and dinner turned out fine, but if you’re ever in need of a little heart-pounding excitement, give some thought to dicing root vegetables in the dark.

Speaking of Nature, when is Nature like sharing a room with your sister? Buckwheat knows: when giraffes fight over a blouse!

Buckwheat dislikes the monkey suit!

From inside my house, I could see two lights a few streets away behind the house and a street light two blocks in front, so I knew the outage was local. I lit some candles and protected them from curious cats with one hand while calling my sisters at the family store six blocks away and not in the dark with the other. Pete and I ate steamed pork bao dipped in fragrant sauces, washed the dishes and settled in to hours of talking, knitting and writing by candlelight in our living room. The lights came on as I dialed Siobhan to discuss jarring applesauce in the dark, which I was about to do. I was almost disappointed to be able to see what I was doing.

Thursday morning, I barked at my boss Gianna, who lives two blocks from me, “What did you do last night?” She looked at me quizzically. “Power failure from 6 to 9?” I hinted.

“We didn’t have a power failure last night,” she said, “but don’t feel bad. We have one every day. The power goes out and everything blinks. We stopped resetting our clocks years ago.”

Knowing Who To Cling To

Miss Sasha casually mentioned North Dakota was enjoying a blizzard yesterday, so it should come as no surprise that last night the power went out in the tiny New Jersey town just as I started dinner. I made dinner, then called Miss Sasha to tell her the depth of sympathy, which was insufficient. Panky had just tossed his dinner on the floor.

Right Back To Where We Started From

Here at Poor Impulse Control, who the hell knows if we have our priorities straight. Let’s review:

Adorable grandchildren –
Learning about food preserving –
Potatoes, still without a glass bottom potato boat –
Cat blankets

And on Monday, Pete and I start a three-day motorcycle safety course that either ends with our getting licenses or drastically rethinking the next thirty years of our futuristic and stylish lives.

Buckwheat: check! Panky: check! Destination: picnic!

Zucchini in tomatoes, pickled beets, red onions in red wine, Tata in 100 degree weather.

We've grown potato plants; no idea if we've grown potatoes.

Hey! Turns out cats like blankets!