Garabaldi Search

 

Garibaldi search

No, not Giuseppi, the Italian revolutionary from the 1800s.

Over the years, I’ve been on the hunt for these fairly unexciting biscuitty cookies from my youth.

In fact, I was just in the grocery store yesterday when the thought occurred to me to try again. Up and down the cookie aisle I went, to no avail.

 And then lo and behold, there they were on Field and Fen  and I was inspired to try making them myself.

The ingredients are anything but exotic; you probably have them in your kitchen but be warned – Boud made it look easy-peasy.

Not so much in my hands.

I’m a pretty experienced baker; cookies, cakes, many a loaf of home-made bread (no, I don’t use a bread machine). But.

Yes, I chilled the dough well.

Yes, I floured the surface.

But I failed to achieve that perfect state between too crumbly and too wet.

Let’s just say, the British Baking Show won’t be pounding on my door anytime soon.

But they actually did taste just fine, and reminded me of those store-made cookies of long ago.

Still, in two days I’ll be welcoming the Amazon delivery guy once again.

What handicap?

 

          I’ve been dodging my golf league, which is strict about score-keeping, for the past two weeks, but today I broke down and played. Being a middling-to-poor player, I’m tired of perpetually being teamed with those in the top division. I’m even guilty of signing up to play because I know there’s a 99% chance of rain that day (as I did last week).

          Why do I stay? I’m hedging my bets for a future when the friends I go out with on other days will no longer be available.

          But today went well. My group of four consisted of one person I play with for fun on Tuesdays, one (Nancy) I’ve been out with before who is good but who doesn’t intimidate me, and a third who I didn’t know but who was a delightfully poor player. Very soothing.

          It was a little worrisome that the third player never quite grasped the fact that you need to wait behind the firing line before marching out in front of someone who’s swinging a club. Maybe she finally got the message when she was yards ahead of us; someone’s shot, instead of going straight, winged off to the left and hit her golf bag next to her.

          We were the very last of the league to tee off, likely because of the second player, Nancy.  I’m pretty sure she’s well into her 80s, is doubled over with age, and always brings along her four-prong cane.  I think the schedulers have deemed her a slow player and so park her at the back so she doesn’t slow down everyone else.  Still, she kept up with us perfectly well. I would just drove her in the golf cart to her ball, she’d hobble over to it, swing, and send it sailing for yards beyond any of ours.

All in all, It was a good day. We had perfect weather, I made par on one hole, and was one over par on another.

          Our octogenarian? She won the round, out-swinging us all.  

         

         

Mahjong, yoga, and turkeys

 

Life lately has been a soothing stream of routine events. So soothing that I haven’t written a blasted word anywhere.

Still, there have been a few breaks.

Yesterday, the group I play Mahjong with trekked out to the lake house of one of the members, where we all ate too much of our various lunch contributions and admired the view. 

In spite of the 65-degree temps and sporadic sprinkles, some opted to even take a slow boat ride. I know too well how much cooler even the slowest trip in a boat can be, so I stayed back with the desserts. Oh, and we did play some Mahjong, too.

 

This morning was my regular Wednesday yoga class, where my body let me know it was uninterested in bending anything. It didn’t help that the instructor held several of the positions longer than usual, IMHO. My wrists were unhappy with the extended time of ‘down dog’ and my knees decided ‘warrior two’ was not going to happen today.

 

Still, I was now loosened up, and I managed to add a couple of coral bells to the garden so I didn’t waste all that limberness, and that earned me some porch time.

 I settled in with my book and all was well for a while until I heard the cluck-cluck-cluck of turkey warnings.

I looked up, and sure enough, there were the four musketeers who travel back and forth in our backyard all day. They had been squatting in the shade enjoying the afternoon breeze, napping and thinking tiny turkey thoughts.

And then drama:

Fortunately, the four dodged to the left while the fox took off to the right and not a feather was lost.

If I only had a brain

 Ah, the comfort of wandering our town library and finding something by a favorite author. And once home, possibly setting it aside in the pile, to read last.

Lawyers, Carpenters, and Doctors - Oh My!

         There’s been so much going on in the past two hours, I’m beginning to wonder if I’m retired after all. What started out as a pretty ordinary day definitely picked up speed in the afternoon.

Slow Saturday

Not a heckofa lot going on here. Nowhere I needed to be, so I meandered through the morning. Enjoyed my tea, finally put on some clothes and did a walk around the complex. I then made a trip to the library, where I noted that the rose bushes there that I volunteered to tend needed me to return with clippers in hand for dead-heading.

Sniffing Blanks

          Lately, the odds are pretty high of finding me at a standstill in front of the open fridge sniffing barbecue sauce or with my nose in the jar of kalamata olives.

A day in the life of a grandmother

          My Saturday began hunched over my phone and computer.

Saved by Facebook

Me, dodging that bullet.

  

  Not something I ever expected to write, but. . .

Forgotten Skill

 

          I broke one of my own personal rules last week and bought a pair of linen pants. Don’t get me wrong. I love linen. But on someone else - those kind of people who look all flowy and carefree, carrying off each wrinkle with aplomb.

Tunes and cars and the march of progress

           I remember when we retro-fitted a tape deck in my ’85 Subaru wagon. I loved that wagon – a deep navy blue, it was just the right size. And now it had tunes! I even sold my soul to Columbia House for a brief spell, but then after the introductory phase I didn’t want to keep paying for tapes, so sometimes I’d check them out of the library and make copies.

          Next was our little Bronco 2, with a built in (!) tape deck and with a ridiculously small wheel base. I could do a U-turn on a dime. So tall and square that I’m surprised it didn’t just tump over on its side sometimes.

          In 1998 we leased a Pathfinder, so fancy that the Nissan badge on the back was gold. Now I was living, with both a tape deck and a CD player.

 (We ended up buying it and kept it for 20 years. That car would not give up. It was such a tank that the body gave out before the motor and we ended up welding the engine to the frame to hold everything together. We ultimately gave it in trade to a junkman who was helping us clear out when we moved from our house to this condo.)

          My 2006 Passat sedan came next, with a CD player. I loved that car, which I’d bought all by myself, not a husband in sight. It was the loss leader for a dealership outside of Boston. They kept trying to steer me to something higher end, but no, I didn’t want leather seats, and no, I didn’t need their finance package or insurance.  

          Then we found a used 2009 Infinity SUV, much fancier than we’d have been able to afford if it was new, so this one was outfitted a CD deck that held 6 CDs at once. And yes, we still have that car and it waits for us in Florida.

          However now I’m driving my leased 2025 Honda CRV. With no deck – tape or CD – and no way to play the music I’d gathered over the years. This is progress?

          Fortunately, I had transferred much of the CD collection to my last laptop. Good thing, since the stupid laptop I have now doesn’t even have a CD drive. And miraculously, we figured out how to move that file (that I didn’t realize I’d saved) from the new laptop to my phone and thus now I can Bluetooth that into my car.

    
But these went out with the trash last week.  

If only looks could actually kill

 

Mea Culpa

 Okay, I did it again. I wandered away from the blog and then didn’t get up enough momentum to return till now.

          However, in my defense I’ve had a roaring cold for the past three weeks and still have a lurking cough that sneaks up, thus preventing me from returning to my yoga group, too. When the room is so silent you worry about someone being embarrassed by even a soft fart, you certainly don’t need me suddenly hacking up a lung.

          So, today I spent playing catch-up. My book club met on Wednesday and I went dancing in, saw the woman hosting this week collecting up the books and realized to my horror that I’d forgotten to call the library to order the ones for June. When I’m hosting.

          Funny, just the day before I’d exchanged nightmares with my hairdresser. He’d said that the common hairdresser dream is hordes of people arriving to the shop all for the same time slot. I shared my teacher one, in which I can’t find my classroom and when I get there I have none of the materials needed.

          And now I’d basically lived that in real life.

          So that Wednesday I quickly slunk over to the library desk and ordered the copies needed. They must have sensed my desperation because 12 of them arrived on Friday. (I still need 6 more.)

          Thus, today was spent ferrying the ones I did have to people’s homes. I will say it’s handy that the book club is all people in our complex so that wasn’t too much of a strain.

(And here is something that caught my attention as I walked by the library showcase. Isn't this a neat idea?)

Bringing the Florida cold with us

         We’ve landed; we’re officially now transplanted back to Massachusetts till next winter. Over the years, we’ve grown used to the three days of driving necessary to get here, but each year it feels just a bit more difficult. This year’s added bonus was that on day one My Guy was coughing. By day two he was coughing and sneezing and my eyes began to water. By day three all we wanted, sweet Jesus, was to get home.

Departure

 Today is a day of piles in the hall, cleaning the fridge, eating on paper plates, and packing the car. Not to mention all the Florida-specific tasks like placing DampRid (bagged granules that soak up moisture) in closets, and last-minute saran wrap over the toilets (discouraging evaporation and possible critters from pipes).

Marty puts down her drink and runs to the rescue.

Rude Awakening

 

Tomorrow we’ll be listening as someone sings a thought we’ve all had – ‘If I were a rich man. . .’

Duty Done!

           Our next door neighbors here are so close that our porches sit side-by-side. We’re outwardly friendly, but like the big ole hypocrites we are, we avoid them with dodges and weaves worthy of any prizefighter in the ring.

Morning Constitutional

 

Another stroll around our quiet (especially now that many of us snowbirds have left) complex once again provided some unexpected sights.

Shameless or Brilliant Marketing?

 

As we were leaving the beach the other day, I noticed something that at first seemed out of context, but then realized it was perfectly placed. 

A Little Free Library

Disasters in Clay

Because last year we’d enjoyed our maiden voyage into the land of clay, my friend Ann and I returned to the Venice art center for another pottery class. Neither one of us lays any claim to artistic ability, but this seemed like something even we could do.

Beach morning

Today being about as perfect as a day can get, we decided to do breakfast on the beach. 

Rainy Day

 

Nothing gladdens the heart in the middle of a drought like a good rainstorm. Our totally fake ponds, not spring-fed, were looking very low. In fact, it’s been so dry this year that one of them has grassed over and will need mowing before long.

Babies, scooter, snakes, and rainbow

 

You would think that walking the around our complex would be tedious. I mean, it’s just a circle. About the only variety you can achieve is in which way you take it. Admittedly, I’m always listening to a book on my phone since I always feel like a hamster on her wheel by the time I’m in the second loop to gain some steps.

Day Trip

           So, just to get up and out, we took a drive to Matlacha, Florida, only a little over an hour away from us. Against all logic, it’s pronounced “mat-lah-SHAY.”

Limping and Blinking

There I was, on my way to bash that pickleball, when my sneaker hit the ground at an angle, my ankle did an unpleasant turn, and my knee was suddenly unhappy.

For Peg

   What with food prices on their alpine climb, I’m determined to eat down whatever we already have before the next trip. I’m one of the probably select few who doesn’t mind a trip to the grocery store, it combining two of my favorite things – shopping and food.

Clear-conscience shopping

          For the rest of the year, I live in a small town in Massachusetts that while lovely, isn’t close to much of anything. We have a couple of nearby good restaurants, but eating out usually means a drive of 45 minutes or an hour.

First came the goats . . .

 

I’d played pickleball for two hours in the morning, but then spent the afternoon just sitting, so it was time for a walk around the complex.

Mystery solved

 

Yesterday meandered by – up later than my usual leap-out-of-bed-at-7:00 to rush off and play pickleball. This meant comfy time on the couch with my cup of tea and latest mystery. Then a walk of two times around the complex, more reading, then to the pool to lounge and chat with people. Hedonist heaven.

          Like other days, when I didn’t actually have a book in my hand, I had one in my head. I truly love my airpods. I can listen while I’m changing beds, walking, making dinner, or for more of a challenge, while I’m also completing a crossword puzzle. I use them so much, and they and their case are so small, that I’m careful, careful about where I leave them.

          So, I came home from the pool, fiddled around with a few things, and then fixed dinner (Roasted shrimp & asparagus, caprese salad, box noodle mix), all while still listening to my book.

          When dinner was ready, I unplugged my head and then couldn’t find the case to put the airpods away. After dinner the search began in earnest: countertops, bedroom dresser top, beach bag, purse, bathroom counter. Twice. Then under chairs, bed, dresser; inside underwear drawer, kitchen junk drawer, office junk drawer, box where I throw my sunglasses after walking. Repeat. Nothing.

Homeless

          I finally ended up ordering a replacement case, knowing in my heart that that would ensure that the original case would magically appear. Except it didn’t last night.

          Today I poked around in the freezer, wondering what to make for dinner. Wasn’t there a chicken recipe I wanted to try? How many cans of tomatoes did it call for?

          Off to the office to pull out my big loose-leaf binder of clipped recipes.

          When I opened it – you guessed it – out fell the missing case.

The Loaner

 

My Guy needed my car for a lone day trip, since we thought it would be nice if he actually got to where he was going. His car, which we leave here in Florida, used to be my car.

Four out of four

 

If only I could say that the reason for this latest surge of images on the blog is that I’ve used up all my words through my writing.

While I did make some inroads on book 5 yesterday (finally!), accomplishing a couple of scenes and giving some thought to tying various characters into the happenings,

for the past several weeks I’ve been incredibly lazy. Fortunately, I’ve found one way to outwit myself: Get so far into the book that I can’t possibly walk away, leaving it unfinished and abandoning all that work I’d put into it.

          But never mind all that – in lieu of some deep thoughts on my part, here’s what My Guy entered into the latest modeling society competition. (A reader had expressed interest and requested more of these the last time I posted one of his entries, so here ya go.) 

       

 Usually not much taller than 4 or 5 inches, these are what is known in that world as “flats.” 

He buys the sculpted figure and then paints it, sometimes creating a backdrop for it. I think it was the backdrops that brought him into his other love - painting on canvas. 

This one of Robin Hood earned him a silver.

He won a bronze with the milkmaid:

This one earned him a silver:

And this brought home the gold:

Fabric Joy

(Warning - many pictures ahead.)

I went to an art show on Saturday. 

This show may have awakened that old urge to pore over bolts of fabric and thumb through quilting patterns. 

Aging Report

          I had a Zoom call with my three friends from high school – Washington-Lee in Arlington, VA to be exact. Truly a forgotten era, seeing as how not only is the building gone, a shiny new one replacing it probably decades ago, but the name exists no longer, either. It’s now Washington Liberty, which I suppose means the football team is no longer the Washington Generals. And in domino-style, I imagine the team colors are no longer blue and gray. . . and therefore, I imagine the yearbook I used to work on is no longer called the Blue and Gray either.

          Whew – I hadn’t followed all that to its logical end before.

          I envy those of you who are near your roots and see friends from long ago on a regular basis. As I’ve written before, the three of us are scattered over Massachusetts, West Virginia, Maryland, and Hawaii. Unsurprisingly, we haven’t gotten together in years. I haven’t seen our Hawaii member in decades.

          Last year we made noises about getting together, possibly near or at the West Coast to simplify travel for our island dweller. However, our Maryland friend fell while on a trip and broke her femur, resulting in months of recovery.

          We’re going to try again this fall, this time aiming for the Southwest – Santa Fe? Sedona? Somewhere artsy with good views, anyway.

We’ll see.

          The thing is, Hawaii friend seems none too healthy – diabetes, arthritis – and her husband just turned 102. Yes. Really. 102. So, I imagine she’ll have to line up care for him.

          It seems as though West Virginia friend can now barely walk, but she cheerily extolled the possibilities of airport wheelchairs. Okaaaay . . . . .

          Maryland friend is all healed up, and is probably just fine for the trip. Hard to tell, though. She has definite hypochondriacal tendencies.

          As the only one of the group with my own knees, whose only medication is a low-dose statin, I feel a bit like Wonder Woman, arthritis aside.

Sunday Stroll

 This morning's walk through the complex was full of the usual fauna:

A crabby crow

The Heavens

 

Sweet daughter managed to tear herself away from the tropical climes of northwestern New Jersey for a long weekend here in Florida. I’m sure it was a wrench, having to leave behind the scene of this last week’s blizzard. It’s a rare treat to have one of our kids all to ourselves, something you don’t realize how much you’ll miss it when they get married and have kids and a life of their own.

Sad Soles

          So as you may know, I’ve been playing pickleball quite a bit lately, sometimes three times a week. And if you’re envisioning me dashing gracefully side to side and then whizzing from the net to the back of the court – don’t.

          My game is now fairly stationary; I play close to the net as much as I can and depend on fast reflexes and a long reach. I learned the hard way that running backwards will often guarantee that you’ll land on your keister, or worse.

          Running anywhere pretty much left my life several years ago.

          And yet, I’ve still managed to come home with aching legs. Thinking it was all about arch support issues, I got orthotics, which didn’t solve things completely. I finally realized I probably just needed a new pair of sneakers, which I now need to take for a walk. Or do I?

          Do people still “break in” their shoes? I remember as a kid, a period of band-aids on my heels before that year’s school shoes softened up.

          And another thing – I also remember every September my father taking the beer can opener’s pointy end and scratching up the smooth soles of my new saddle shoes to prevent me slipping. In this world of sneakers everywhere except the shower, I guess that’s gone, too.