The shopping gene inherent in every pore of my mother’s being did not pass down to me. Endless shifting of hangers and trying on of things on body parts nearly creates a psychic fissure in my universe. This, much to my mother’s dismay. She is always saying she just doesn’t understand it. Bemoaning “she raised me right, took me to all the finest stores during my formative years, and still I have to be dragged past the electronic eyes begging for mercy”. Perhaps I am a genetic throwback. Don’t misunderstand me I love clothes, it’s just the acquiring of them that keeps my bank account solvent. On the advent of a personal shopper in my life, bankruptcy cannot linger far behind.
Truthfully, I’m a fairly practical female. Probably my biggest outlay monthly is for food because I love to roam the kitchen, unbridled and sweaty of brow. One of our neighbors said the other day she likes to walk past our house because she can always see my blond head scurrying to and fro beyond the kitchen window and pleasant smells hang in the air. It’s nice to be thought of as a scurrying little being with an acceptable aroma. Makes me sound like a hygenically conscientious mouse.
Time is moving quickly on our visit. Everyone has scattered in different directions today so I find myself alone for an hour or so and able to gather a few thoughts. Monterey escaped us this time, which is disappointing. Between the weather, cold and blustery, and the time constraints of our visit this trip the only time we could have driven down would have been at four in the morning today and no one would get up out of bed.
Today my other half and I are going out hunting and gathering. Where we live in Northern California is a beautiful area in the low mountains but the availability of unusual foodstuffs is limited to finding a nice brie in the deli department. When I asked about a leg of lamb for Easter the butcher at the market said he’d have to order me one. Some poor little lamb is sitting out in a local pasture thinking “oh crap”. This being the case, I’m outfitting my other half in his camouflage jacket and we’re going to brave the much feared freeways of the Bay Area in search of fresh game.
This will be my second day in the stores while here and hopefully, since tomorrow night will be our last night, my last. My son and his family live not far from my mother’s, so with my cousin and her husband arriving from Halifax tomorrow we will truly be having a “family” gathering. I like that, for me it doesn’t come often enough. In hindsight I always wished I’d had a small herd of children, but life seems to direct itself as it will and so I had two, but they’re keepers.
Both my other half and I are “onlys”. Not a sibling between the two of us, although we both have had “steps” along the way. For me there was always a curiosity about big families, as many of my friends had them, but for Rick I think he already felt overcrowded in the confines of his small family, a cast of characters.
Our fourteen-year old granddaughter is living with us for a while. The oldest of four, she, of the four children, is the only one who seems to require the companionship of her own company and not need the stimulus of the other three to be entertained. I find that interesting. Rick and I are each very comfortable spending “alone” time and perhaps this comes from spending more solitary hours as children then people with multiple siblings. One ponders the most inane things when left to their own devices.
Feeling a bit tired today because of sleeping on my mother’s sofa bed. It’s a self-inflatable type, and for its ilk quite comfortable, but it’s smaller than the sprawling king we have at home and thus my ears are somewhat closer to my other half’s mouth which, when sleeping, is known to saw enough logs of an evening to build Honest Abe a suitable cabin. Also, I’m a restless sleeper. I tend to flop back and forth like a marlin on the line so between the two of us it’s a struggle to get a decent nights sleep without the police needing to be called. To add to the mix, my mother’s cat, Sue, insists on doing wind sprints across the bed in the wee hours in hopes that her human captors will get up and drop a couple of treats in her bowl or offer a pat on the head. My other half informed her after her third marathon run, rather rudely I might add, that if another was forthcoming she would find herself stuffed and mounted next to my stepfather’s tennis trophies on the family room wall. A few black and white hairs lingered where she had stood, but the rest of her was not to be seen until coffee this morning.
So, I will end and go take my walk. The grounds are so beautiful here that I always come home with some fabulous pictures. These eggs are fun and the kids love them because of the colors and often I let them help. Everyone has their own take on eggs. I like them simple and delicious.
Colorful Deviled Eggs
13 large eggs (1 as a spare)
1 cup mayonnaise
1 1/2 Tbsp. yellow mustard, prepared
Freshly ground black pepper
Dash of salt
Bread and butter pickles for garnish
4 Food colors
Place eggs in cold water to cover in large saucepan. Bring to boil and remove from heat and cover. Allow to sit for 20 mins. Run under cold water and peel.
Slice each egg in half lengthwise. Scoop yolks into mixing bowl (I use a small spoon to clean them thoroughly). Mash yolks against the side of the bowl with a fork until a coarse crumble.
Add mayonnaise, mustard, pepper and light salt. It is easy to over salt so taste and add sparingly. Set aside.
Fill four bowls 1/2 full with warm water. Place five or so drops of food coloring in each bowl to create four separate colors. Equally distribute the white halves in the bowls and allow to sit until color sets. Remove with slotted spoon and pat dry with paper towels.
Place yolks in pastry bag or cut one diagonal slice off the bottom of a large resealable plastic bag and squeeze decoratively into colored bottoms. Put a small nibble of pickle on top and sprinkle with paprika.
I like to parsley to the plate for contrast.