I'm going through a phase of feeling very inward. I don't know if it's the time of year, or the political landscape. Most likely both. Normally on a winter weekend afternoon Ernie and I would be out for a drive, taking pictures here and there. I haven't even wanted to. Staying home, reading, cooking. That's about all I want to do. I suppose there will come a point where I'm sated with that and will turn outward again, but for now, that's where you find me.
This weekend I devoured the Bruce Springsteen autobiography and I loved it, loved it, loved it. The writing really spoke to me, as did his willingness to bare his faults and weaknesses. After that I went through a bunch of cookbooks from the library, before landing on a book about the WPA's efforts to write about cooking. I'm just partway through but so far have loved it. So there you have it...that's the main takeaway from my weekend. Well, that and the fact that Owen now has his driver's permit. "Do we need anything at the store Mom?" "Do you need to go anywhere?"
And since I have no other anecdotes, the current grocery list. Oh yeah, Owen protested my notes on the grocery list so they are now on the To Do list.
You guys exaggerate everything. I found this one particularly amusing. I was going to say, 'pot calling the kettle black' but it's more like 'pot calling the kettle orange' or something like that. Oh, Owen.
Dimly lit rooms and iceberg lettuce. Owen was talking about having his driver's permit and said, "Mom, now we can go on a tour of...oh, what are those called? You know, dimly lit rooms and iceberg lettuce?" "Oh, yeah," I said, "SUPPER CLUBS!"
Kokoro. Roy Orbison. Raul. I think this was a late night me trying to use the Japanese phrase, 'kokoro' to explain the pull of the voices of Roy Orbison and Raul Malo. Kokoro means heart, mind, spirit, there's no direct translation in English.
Aging is scary but fascinating. A line from the Springsteen book that struck me.
Records are often auditory Rorschach tests; we hear what we want to hear. Another line from the book that struck me. I think this is true of many things, all the arts included.
Do you need a cone? Owen asked me this when he was rebuking me for scratching my legs. I'm two week on/two weeks off of my nummular eczema medication and I'm in the off phase right now which is driving me crazy.
You guys will probably be dead by then. I actually forget what made Owen say this. Oh well.
And lastly, last night's odd throw together of dinner. Pulled pork. I put it in as small a pot as I could (per Serious Eats' carnitas recipe) and coated it with leftover Berbere seasoning and Aleppo pepper (meaning Ernie did that). Then we popped it into a pot with a bit of olive oil and cooked it at 300 degrees for about mmm....five hours or so.
It fell apart and was heavenly good. I crisped some up in a pan for Owen with flour tortillas. Ernie and I just had hours plain, with cut up avocado, some salsa and salad greens. The flavor was amazing. Here's my 'oops, almost forgot to take a picture' instagram shot.