Sunday Break

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Today was a repeat of yesterday. Get a meal ready before she decides she wants to go out. This gets me moving around and using my imagination and skills. All around a win. I figured we’ve saved about $70 this weekend with this strategy.

I found a Boston butt section at Food Lion Thursday, It was reduced meaning it needed to be prepared sooner rather than later. With Goya Mojo Criollo marinade I fixed Cuban-style “roast” pork in the slow cooker. It is a) fool-proof, and b) delicious. You can look it up. Hint): Put the meat in the cooker, pour over the marinade. Cook on the “low” setting for 5-6 hours.

I next had some black beans on hand that I then cooked with shallots, garlic, cumin, a dash of turmeric and a couple shakes of Badia Taco Seasoning. Badia is another Latino foods line that has some good products

I had some zucchini cooked with tomatoes, mushrooms, shallots and garlic that I seasoned with Herbes de Provence simmering away.

Lastly I fixed some cornbread. Good. Old. Cornbread. I make it from a recipe I took from the back of a bag of cornmeal. A sure winner. Again easy. Mix 1 cup cornmeal, 1 cup all purpose flour, 1/4cup sugar, 3 tsp baking powder, 1 tsp.salt in one bowl. I sift the ingredients, but that’s not necessary. In another bowl, beat an egg ,add a cup of milk (or buttermilk or kefir), and a quarter cup oil. Add the liquid to the dry, mix “real good”, and bake in a greased 8 x8 pan at 425 for 25 minutes or till golden. Foolproof. Delicious. Southern.

I enjoyed our lunch with a glass of hibiscus tea. Luzianne sells hibiscus in tea bags and its red color and tropical flavor is a delight.

I’m sitting, thinking about the bad broadcast coverage of the Kentucky Derby on NBC. The Suits at the Peacock Network thought they could make an interesting 2-hour show out of a 2 minute race. Well they couldn’t. I don’t care who Dale Earnhardt, Jr. or Al Roker thinks might win. Or the profound insights of the owners, trainers and jockeys. I did notice that Bob Baffert has a hairstyle similar to legendary professional wrestler, Ric Flair. Greatness imitates greatness.

As near as I can tell, the jockey gets on the horse, points it in the same direction as all the other horses are running and hopes for the best. (The Best includes horse and jockey living to race again.)

All in all, it was a very exciting race. I don’t follow the horses much, not being a bettin’ man. It is obvious from the desperate attempt to gin up interest that horse racing is dying out.

This quiet Sunday is what I needed. I have had a late sleep, a nice meal and life is good. I needed the rest.

Resting A While

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The First Friday/Saturday of the month brings Nocturnal Adoration. Since my insomnia can easily have me up at Four AM, that is the time for my Holy Hour. I sit, meditate, pray The Rosary. It is a time for contemplation.

Much as it is rewarding for me, I feel it the next day. I have had a couple of naps. When Mrs CorC? woke up, I decided to fix breakfast/brunch. Having a brunch ready preemptively means we don’t go out and spend an absurd amount of money for a meal not that much better than what I can fix at home.

The selection today was a savory breakfast crêpe with a mushroom, bacon, cheese filling. I use the Fannie Farmer Cookbook recipe. I think it’s the most recent edition, put together by Marion Cunningham. It is a simple batter. The trick to a thin crêpe is to use very little batter (2 tablespoons) per crêpe. The brunch was well-received. I think we would have spent $25-30 easily going out.

I’m sitting now. Tired finally. The clean-up kicked my butt. Now I’m watching the end of the Yankees/Indians game. Yankees won, winning 14 of their last 15.

Honesty Advisory:

I find cooking highly erotic. The tactile experience, the smells, tastes, and, most importantly, the shared experience of eating with my lover. I can even forget the absence of a sexual component to our marriage.

I am always reminded of the marvelous film Babette’s Feast. A Parisian chef uses her lottery winnings to prepare an unforgettable meal for the Danish sisters who gave her a home during a political exile. It is from a story by Isak Dinesen.

So I will swim later. I have not been swimming consistently for a while. It is good to go back. I literally am working through the grief of a lost friendship.

A little passion would go a long way toward working through this pain.

Short Post

Last night’s post The Truth really opened up some space for me. Telling the truth about my loss and my feelings are helping me work through this horrific experience.

Growing up in a political family, I learned to take political disagreement with a grain of salt. So when I encounter inflexible and hateful ideologues in the real world, I don’t know how to deal with them.

So I still want everybody in the Whole Wide World to love me for the lovable old curmudgeon that I am, just as I love pretty much all comers.

We went from day time highs of mid sixties to lower nineties within a day of each other, it seems.

Had the ball joints replaced in the ’98 Mercury Grand Marquis, my Dad’s (Junior) old car. I want it to run forever

The Truth

I have been hiding out for about ten weeks. The Lenten sabbatical worked well, but not posting frequently when Ascension Day is one week away requires an explanation.

Here It Is

About ten weeks ago, a man whom I counted as a friend for thirtynine years ended our friendship because I told him that I really didn’t care what Donald Trump says or tweets. I still don’t. For someone who has followed politics since I was thirteen, this is a radical departure. Truth is I am burned out.

When that friendship ended, part of me died. I had deluded myself into thinking friendships are some sort of indisolvable bond. They are not. After two failed marriages, I should have known better. So my enthusiasm for life has faded. Maybe it will return.

I can no longer fly “under the radar”, pretending that adultery doesn’t contradict my values. The fact that many of the blogs I follow are from bloggers in sexually unconventional arrangement may seem hypocritical on my part. Maybe it is. But by now, after a couple of years of reading, I’m rather engaged by the narratives.

So I’m a hypocrite. At least I won’t die of loneliness.

Felafel

A few years ago, before my surgeries, I went to the Indian/Halal grocery to get some goat meat. While there, I saw a bag of chickpeas that looked thick enough to stop a magnum round. It was 3 lbs. So I bought it, thinking I will make my own hummus and felafel one day. That day finally arrived. The pressure cooker makes easy work of cooking the garbonzos. And a good blender/ food processor makes the prep for the hummus easy. The Kitchen Aid stand mixer makes easy work prepping the felafel. I use Moosewood Cookbook for the recipes for both. ( Hint: If you don’t own a copy, acquire one. It is one cookbook worth owning.)

The felafel met with some push back from Mrs CorC?. She is not exactly a culinary experimenter. She did eat them and found them palatable. I experimented with how to cook them; I found cooking them on the convection setting at 350° worked very well. They browned up nicely. There was no fat used in cooking them in the convection oven. I ate them in a BIG salad (Seinfeld). Earlier I tried them stuffed in a pita half. That’s OK but the salad offers more flavors to complement the spicy felafel. Moosewood has a yummy tahini/lemon sauce that is fantastic with the felafel.

Other than cooking, straightening, organizing, and waiting for my government check, I’m keeping out of trouble.

Things Happen.

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Back in late February, 24 February, to be exact, my stepmother fell, fracturing her femur. She is 92, so this is a very big deal. After surgery, and a hospital rehabilitation, she is back at home, continuing her rehab, with the hope of walking again without the aid of a walker. Her days of living alone, however, are over.

Saturday was cold and rainy, more like late February than early April. Homemade macaroni and cheese seemed like the perfect dish. I made a cheese sauce, and, upon discovering a complete absence of macaroni, broke up the linguine and angel hair pasta I had open in boxes. It works just as well. I’m taking the pasta and cheese sauce over to my stepmom in a few minutes.

Things happen. Elderly people fall. Lives change.

There are things that happened during my blogging hiatus I will eventually share. D’s femur fracture is but the first.

There is a deep emotional hurt I will post about, but it is political in nature. I’m not ready to write about it because the pain after almost eight weeks is still too raw, reminiscent of the collapse of my first marriage that ended forty years ago, coincidentally in the early Spring. I am still losing sleep over this recent incident.

More later.

Radical De-Cluttering.

I’m back. It was a needed hiatus to sort out what’s important in my life and hence what I should consider blogging about.

As a Lenten exercise, abstaining from a worldly thing or activity serves to direct one’s thoughts to God and to Eternity. (End of homily. More later. Maybe.)

Yes, I have spent this six weeks de-cluttering. De-Cluttering, I would define, as getting rid of the crap in your spaces, be that space a closet, a dresser drawer, a kitchen cabinet, or the space between one’s ears.

MrsCorC? and I had, more or less, been decorating with junk. We had been putting things away secretly hoping the cabinets, closets and drawers would magically “disappear” for us the things we didn’t use or need or want, but lacked the emotional ruthlessness to toss willfully. For example, we have a plastic cup from Baltimore’s Memorial Stadium commemorating the last season played there by the Oreos, err, Orioles. A treasure? Would my as yet unborn grandchild appear on PBS’s Antiques Roadshow in 2051 with said cup and discover that this little propylene gem is worth a Zillion Dollars?

Imagine that.

We have made several trips to the thrift shop with our stuff and it feels pretty good. We saved tins from crackers, cookies, candy, coffee, dishwasher pods. They lived on top of the kitchen cabinets, attracting grease and dust. Finally I said we’re putting them to good use or recycling them. And I did just that. And they actually look pretty good. They hold the baked goods or coffee or dishwasher cleaning pods and they look kinda cool doing just that.

Last night, however, I discovered whilst cleaning and dusting the exteriors and tops of the cabinets that said cabinets were held to the wall by long wood screws going through a strip of particle board. One tore off the wall when I touched to climb down from the step stool/ladder. Down it came, breaking numerous cups and glasses Oh Well.

Kitschy Kitchen Kontainer featuring Astro

Charming cracker tins attest to the homeowner’s commitment to adaptive reuse.

Cabinet on Floor, not wall. Tulips came from our garden.

Note particle board strip up top.

Giving Up The Cyber World. For Lent. For Good?

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I’ve been terminating a newspaper subscription, The New York Times. I stopped supporting three Patreon artists. I realized I could not afford them. I feel enormously relieved. I want to delete completely my Facebook account. And I did! Free at last! Free at last! Thank God Almighty I’m free at last!

The Cyber World just isn’t worth it. I don’t trust people. Likewise, don’t trust me. So I will take a hiatus through Lent and reevaluate on Easter Monday.

I realize I am not a COOL GUY. I never will be. I am a heteronormative patriarch. I never will be any different. Not Ever.

See y’all on 2 April. If you are interested, that is.

Going Dark.

I have decided to close this blog. I am also considering getting rid of my cell phone and closing my e-mail accounts. I have had enough of the cyber world.

As soon as I can figure out how to move the blog entries some place else I will be gone.

Our Other Mother

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Can you imagine the Blessed Virgin Mary driving the car pool?

She notices the driver worried and distraught from her perspective as the statue on the dashboard. She looks at the driver, smiles and says, “You be still. I’ll take over. Turn me around and then do as I say.”

Yes fantasy. Hallucination perhaps. And yet she is our Protectress. We still have to do the work, but she prays for us and with us when we ask her. She is as much my mother as my birth mother was. She is ever near.

She is my great strength when I beseech her aid as I face all of the temptations and distractions that work their way between Her Son Our Lord and me. I used to think that this notion absurd until I actually implored her aid. It’s not magic. The temptation is still there. Yet its power is gone. The yearning for a dubious comfort has left when the HAIL MARY leaves my throat.

Go figure