Making the Day Normal

I cannot talk about lupus today. 

This afternoon my sister (one of the five) called me and talked.  She had a lot to say.  I put my phone on the speaker setting and carried it around with me while I put away groceries, searched through all my piles of unfiled/unhandled papers, tossed things into the mixed paper recycle, and paid some bills.  She didn’t require a lot from me.  I said “Yes” and “Oh my God” at the right times.  I was actually interested in her chatter, and it made my chores go so quickly.  I found a few pieces of paper that had been the object of tedious searching for a month. 

Altogether, three of the sisters contacted me today.  One wasn’t a conversation.  She sent me a picture message of another sister’s new hairdo.  This is when it’s cool having sisters, because really, who else would be interested?  We are an instant audience for each other’s weight loss victories, shopping bargains, and complaints about anything in life.  I have a date with another sister for tomorrow, to go have burgers at her favorite place.  I’ve been having Boca Burger lately and I think I’m ready for the real thing. 

This evening I made a salad.  When Dayna was young and I had no plan, we would make a salad out of whatever was in the house.  Tonight was an impromptu salad like that.  I boiled some whole wheat fusilli, made a bed of spring mix and diced fresh tomato, and microwaved a Boca Burger to crumble over it.  Everything, including the pasta, went into the bowl.  I sprinkled on some garlic powder, oregano and basil, and used Greek yogurt for the dressing.  Yayyy!  Salad!  saladandpie-004.jpg

Earlier today I exercised my new conviction that I don’t have to be cooking for someone else to make the good stuff.  I pulled out some frozen peaches, defrosted them by cooking with agave and Smart Balance, added some cornstarch (dissolved in cold water) and boiled a minute until it was thick.  Oh yeah, cinnamon went in, too.  I poured the whole mixture into a store-bought whole wheat pie crust (still partially frozen) and covered it with pieces of crust from the other pie.  I call that particular way of topping the pie a mosaic crust.  I find that the whole wheat crusts that I buy don’t hold together if I try to cut them in ribbons and make a woven crust, so I just go with it and use the random pieces that I peel out of the pan.  It cooked a bit too long and was bubbling out of the pan when I went to remove it from the oven.  None of these imperfections hurt the taste of the peach pie.  When I was a girl, I wondered how my mother could cook without openinga recipe book.  I understand now that, with experience, you develop a feel for the ingredients and you know how much tolerance there is for fudging the measuring.  I should call this random peach pie.peachpie.jpg

Some days you just cling to the things that make you feel normal.

Peace.

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One Response

  1. Oh, YUM! Can I come eat at your house????

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