Schmutzie has a post about keeping in mind, every day, that there are things large and small to be grateful for. Not in a Pollyanna-ish way. I used to keep a gratitude journal– a separate notebook full of things I was thankful for. Over time, though, I found myself forgetting it, or juggling it with other diaries I carried around, and so, I forgot to be grateful, in between trying to keep track of everything I’d made so complicated for myself. I’m going to try to remember, now, to just write down something to be grateful for every day in the “everything” notebook I try to carry around.
I never wrote down larger stuff– that was for single subject essays, or posts here. It was little things, like “a seat to myself on the train,” or “a smile from the man across from me on the bus.”
Today, it’s my new Irish flannel bathrobe, with the blue ticking stripe. It’s the first new robe I’ve had in almost ten years.
The NYT’s Dining section had an article about Simon Hopkinson, the British chef and cookbook author who wrote “Roast Chicken and Other Stories,” “Second Helpings of Roast Chicken,” and “Week In, Week Out,” (a collection of newspaper essays only available in Britain, but which can be sent here from the British Amazon arm).
The recipes are fairly straightforward and delicious, and organized by ingredients, such as “Cream,” or “Chocolate,” or “Mussels.” It’s a whimsical organization, a sort of “these are a few of my favorite things,” but it’s charming. The best thing about it isn’t the recipes, though. It’s Hopkinson’s frankly opinionated, humorous voice– he makes fun of himself as much as he does foodies and fancy restauranteurs, and also tells lovely tales about British inns and cooking establishments of yore, when hospitality meant something. They’re in the Elizabeth David and M.F.K. Fisher school of personal and informational essays to accompany recipes, and while his style is lighter than theirs, the cookbooks are a good non-fiction read even if you’ve no intention of cooking from the books. The writing’s worth it, alone. If you liked “Eat, Pray, Love” for her descriptions of eating and food, you’ll probably like this one, too.
We bloggers have bloggy friends (i.e., friends who we make through blogs), non-bloggy friends (i.e., people we know from “real life”) and now, friends who blog. Real life friends, now new and improved, with blogs. My section mate and good friend from law school has begun his blog, Senor Sinister’s Low Key Plan for World Domination, and writes about music, reading (comics included), politics, his lovely wife and his truly gorgeous, well-behaved children. He’s a man after my own heart, a lawyer, a bleeding-heart liberal, and he compliments my cooking. That, and good writing? Well, he’s not the Better Half, but he’s close.
The BH’s colleague, Amy, who I’ve written about before, makes beautiful mosaic mirrors, boxes, and other crafty things under the name Riverview Crafters, is hosting a craft show at her home November 15, 2–8 pm. There will also be woven, leather, ceramic, and other textile and printed crafts. The Better Half, because he is a superior male, paid attention to my indication of interest in this here piece below, and has not only given me exactly what I want for my birthday, but has also supported a local artist. Amy has mirrors, clocks (We got a preview of some ones not on her website yet, and they’re really lovely and clever), picture frames, and large and small boxes– a range of things from small to large.
I would post an image, but their site is flash (gah) and there isn’t a picture of it in the most recent catalogue in my possession, but I nonetheless feel the need to share with you the information about an important marital aid the Better Half just bought for us. Yep, a two zone electrically heated mattress pad from the Vermont Country Store. (What? Get your minds out of the gutter, people. You thought I was talking about something else, weren’t you? Pigs.) Now, other, far more talented and prolific and all-around awesome bloggers (namely, the lovely BeanPaste) have touted the wonders available from the generous and homey Orton family, including those more traditional marital aids, but I did feel compelled to share this. See, it’s two, count them, two, zones in the queen and king sizes, so that means, hold on to your hats, people, I can turn my side all the way up, and leave it on all night, and he can turn his side on just long enough to take the chill off the sheets, and then turn his side off. Goodbye, seventeen blankets on my side of the bed, plus a comforter too heavy for him anyway, so that I end up waking in the middle of the night strangled by blankets. (Of course, if you’re polygamous or polyandrous and have more than two people with you in bed, I’m afraid I can’t recommend an alternative. Sorry.)
You can’t feel the wires at all, and the heat is just LURVELY. LURVELY, I say, because it bears repeating. Since I had that car accident at the end of September my back and neck have been a little wonky, and this lovely, soothing heat makes me feel all aaaaahhhhh when I get out of bed in the morning, and far less nnnnnrrrrrrggghhhh. Because trust me, the nrrghh? Not a good look for me.
