pestilence and contagion!
I picked up my needles for the first time in over a week today. The children and I have had miserable colds and I've been frightfully busy with a million other things (which is probably why I also got sick --- very low stamina!!) I've also neglected my spinning during this recent plague, and I'm reluctant to go back to it because my first attempt was pretty pathetic. I fear a fiber-arts slump may be settling in, but I'm determined to finish all my current projects before it happens. Possibly I'm just feeling run-down after the past week's sore throats, sniffles, coughs, congestion, and general snottiness. Neither of the children is a malingerer, mercifully, and Mr. Desultory didn't get sick this time, so that helped. So too did the gorgeous weather we had for much of the time -- a taste of Spring with the promise of better days to come did much to relieve the misery. So did tonight's dinner -- barbequed chicken thighs, roasted garlic potatoes, and green beans, followed by vanilla ice-cream topped with homemade applesauce and caramel leftover from a recent butterscotch cake. The barbeque sauce was perfectly balanced -- sweet, salty, sour, spicy, piquant -- delicious. The potatoes were sheer bliss, and dessert heavenly. The children love my apple peeler/corer/slicer, and I must say I do as well -- such a simple machine, but so handy. I used a mix of Fuji and Granny Smith apples, and kept the sugar and cinnamon low since it was destined for ice-cream, but I have to say that even by itself it was quite good applesauce. I also love the magic of sugar + heat + cream that is caramel sauce. Amazing that a flavor that delightful should be so simple to create. Subtract the heat, add some air, and you've got soft clouds of billowing whipped cream. Add some agitation and freezing temps, and you've got ice-cream -- I can almost see where the Intelligent Design folks are coming from. Okay, not really. But still -- I'm awfully glad humans have to eat and that preparing and eating food is such a pleasure.
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