I'm basically a four year old, so if and when you want or need me to do something, you need to either a) threaten me, or b) bribe me. With a cookie. Or meatloaf.
I don't know what it is about me and meatloaf. I love the stuff. And no matter how many times I make it, or how many times I change the recipe, I always say to myself "Now THIS is a good meatloaf".
Yesterday, for some unknown reason, I planted myself at the kitchen table and managed to do about three years worth of paperwork, bills, filing, general to-doing, and whatnot. It took all damn day, and when I finally looked up at the clock and realized that I had finally made it to the bottom of THE BASKET, I decided to reward myself with a little cooking.
Did I mention that we're having a heat wave? Did I?
Although I'm happy to report that the meal was divine and exactly what I wanted (meatloaf with Smitten Kitchen brisket onions, Ina's Sagaponak corn pudding, old fashioned broccoli salad, and a Popsicle for dessert), I forgot that running the oven all day would mean that the temps in here would go up. And up. And up.
I normally keep the house like a meat locker, which means that up until a few days ago the thermostat was set at 68 degrees. But after viewing all of the helpful tips on the evening news about how one might survive this hot spell, I moved the thermostat up to a whopping 72 degrees so that the AC unit wouldn't run itself to death.
After my cooking extravaganza, the temperature in here was 76.
I should have known something was amiss when I spotted Stewey taking off the hat, mittens, parka, and scarf that he normally sports and when I realized that the flash of heat that I was feeling had nothing to do with the fact that I seem to be standing in the vestibule to menopausal hell.
But we survived.
THANK YOU! from the bottom of my pitiful little heart for all of your lovely comments about the crewel sampler. I have to say that I'm rather proud of this one myself, especially since it involved using a hoop, learning to sloooowwww down and pay attention to where you stab the needle, and not fretting over the fact that the fabric is completely without any discernible holes to guide you. This was most definitely a reminder that this thing of ours can bring utter bliss and total satisfaction, if you just leave the obsessive compulsiveness at the door and vow to have a little fun. So may I just say once again...BRAVA, Madame Posie Your Very Self! This project was a treat from the very start to the very finish.
Deciding what was next on Ye Olde Agenda was a bit of a challenge, but I went with the one thing that I could think of that is the polar opposite of stitching with Appleton wool on cotton twill....stitching with silk on linen!
This is Shepherd's Bush BEEKEEPER'S COTTAGE, and as you can see, I've made a very tiny little bit of progress in between sweating and making meatloaf:
Today is Dad's birthday, which means he would have turned 79. That seems almost impossible to imagine, and Aunt Chrissy and I miss him terribly. I don't care how old you are....nobody should ever have to try to figure life out without a dad there to guide them. (If anybody in Phoenix finds themselves at the St. Francis Mausoleum today, please give he and mom a little pat for us and let them know that their girls are muddling their way through the best they can out here in Hoosierville.)
It's going to be beastliest of the beastliest today, so Stewey and I are hanging out in the cool confines of Chez Spinster. I've closed all of the blinds and drapes and turned the ceiling fans to maximum force, so as long as I don't get any crazy impulses to bake or clean or do laundry, we should be just fine.
That's the report. I hope that wherever you are is exactly where you want to be and that your breezes are cool, your glass is full, and your needles are flying!