Sunday dinner

A few weeks ago at he farmers'  market I bought a lovely brisket from Lonesome Pines Meats and I thawed it last night.  Right now it is in the oven according to Grandma Dorothy's instructions, with some of my own twists.  I take two packs of onion soup mix and put one pack under the brisket and the other on top (sans the package for those of you who are too literal).  For moisture I put some au jus in the roaster and covered the pan with foil and have it  going low and slow in the oven at 325 degrees.   When I get back from the farmers' 'market, hopefully with some more onions and young potatoes, I will add them along with cut up carrots and parsnips to the mix and cook covered another hour.  Then I will take the meat out of the pan and and brown the veggies,  I'll cool the meat in the fridge to make it easier to slice thin.  I'll reheat the whole shebang and have lovely pan gravy.

The point is this is a comfort food day.  Makes me think of Dorothy, the Aunties, Friday night dinners with the family, and some how my parents are not in that mental picture.  My parents were very insular and didn't like to do family functions.  We used to go out for dinners on Saturdays and Sundays.  Mom was pretty well behaved those days, not drinking until dinner or after.  Although Sunday mornings she was usually hung over and doing wash, or not, but that was the excuse my dad gave  his mom as to why my mom never came with us on our Sunday visits.  Doing laundry was shorthand for hung over and I think grandma Ceil knew that.  She made a good brisket too, but not as good as Dorothy's.  She would make green beans with hers and browned potatoes, but Dorothy's was more like a deconstructed stew waiting to happen.  I add parsnips as I like them and they add a nice flavor to the mix.

And now I am off for my walk with the brisket safe in the oven.  And now you, too, have my brisket recipe with slight modifications to Dorothy's recipe.  Enjoy.

Back in the day...

I was a regular pot head.  This is not to say that I smoked a great deal, just pretty regularly.  Even so brazen to do it when I was home, sneaking up to the attic mid afternoon one summer day to imbibe.  Back in the day, mind you.  I used to come home from the library when I was in college, stoned and hungry.  And very studied.  I had a 3.9 GPA so my grades didn't suffer,  I went to a Jesuit University, University of Detroit (pre-Mercy).  It was no easy go, I was in the honors college and was in the  Jesuit equivalent of Phi Beta Kappa, Alpha Sigma Nu.  And I did my undergrad in just under 3.5 years.  But back to that summer afternoon.  I imbibed and was a little high and I came downstairs a little too soon.  Well my grandmother, Dorothy, was in the den and I walked in and she said to me, and remember I was about twenty years old, "sit on my lap".  Of course I giggled and thought this was hysterical. I did not comply.  She persisted.  "Sit on my lap".  Again I said no and giggled.  Finally I did sit in her lap and she pointed to the bookshelves and said. "There, look at all that dust!" And I totally lost it.  No, I didn't dust.  But at that point in time I thought it was the funniest thing I had ever heard.  Drugs, can't live with them, can't live without them.  I even smoked once with my alcoholic mother who said after several tokes "I don't feel a thing".  Of course she was drunk at the time.  She smoked that once with me but was always critical of some cousins who regularly partook.  I see nothing wrong with it  it I wouldn't smoke again, just because I don't want to get in the habit of smoking again...but as an edible, sure, why not,  legalize pot and be done with it.

Thus endeth today's sermon on the sins of drug use.  Alcohol did more to fux me up than did pot.  And I still don't drink.  But I wouldn't mind getting high occasionally, as long as it was short lived and I could maintan some control.  I know the Soul Sucker thought and thinks pot is the devil's poison, but it didn't hurt me one bit.  And as far as drugs, I take the requisite amount of psychotropics to maintain my level of sanity and intensity.  Without Abilify I would be a basket case.  And take that as a on endorsement of my psychiatrist for putting me on it and the pharmaceutical company for making it.  God knows what it is doing to my brain long term but it is my salvation .  So long live Abilify and all the good it does.  And pot, well to each his or her own,  I do not judge.  Medical marijuana is just the first step.  It should be available like it is in Colorado and Washington. It would empty the prisons and create a great revenue source.

Okay, now I am really done.

Look, ma, no thumbs!

It is not uncommon for me to wake in the night and think that as long as I am awake, why not head to the bathroom, only to find the door closed.  Now, as I live alone, save for the cats, I know Mister Gonif has gone into the bathroom and closed the door behind him.  Not that he needs privacy,  but that  he lacks thumbs to open the door.  He neither whimpers or cries so I don't know he is closed in the bathroom until I see the closed door.  When I open the door he is just sitting there waiting to leave as if waiting for a bus.  Now Yankel has thumbs, of sorts, but he, too, is unable to let Gonif out.  No, it is meant for me to let him out.  This happens at least three times a week.  He just sits and waits and gives me the "what took you so long" look.

This is not the what took you so long look.  This is the I am so damn cute you can't hide from me pose.  This is not the I'll lock myself in the bathroom pout but the gimme treats looks.  

Time for practicing and a little baseball from somewhere on the east coast that is hopefully not in the midst of the hurricane.  Lunch and a nap to follow.  

Oops, therein lay the problem

What I would rather be doing.

Well, among other things I would rather be doing is not running around with this iPad avoiding cats.  Gonif is absolutely radar'd in on me this morning.  Woke up with a headache and no ambition.  Beautiful day out, may hit the out of doors in search of breakfast.  Going to the fireworks and oh yeah a Lugnuts game tonight.  Going out to dinner first with Brody's Mom and then we will walk to the ballpark.  Park once, walk twice.  Until then the usual practice or practicing and lolling about.  Won't be going out until 4:30 or so.

Mayhap a photo of Monsieur Gonif admiring his pillow.

There is a ball game on TV at 11 I shall be watching, napping and reading, not at the same time.  The book on mothers who can't love is very interesting, but I wonder if there will be a little less anger on the part of the author.  Forward, the author not the preface, seems to have little patience for people who don't snap to her beat right away and doesn't seem to deal well with the daughters if the mother has passed and the grieving that would follow.  But that is just a sense I am getting.  Her premise is great and her set up so far is compelling.   I just hope I can see through the forest and still see the trees.  

Mayhap a photo of Yankel admiring the dawn

Alright he isn't admiring the dawn, he is watching television.  And to round out, Simcha the Brave  admiring not a damn thing.

The Motley Crew

Raining day photo of the cats.  Too wet to lay in the windows, they gathered in the kitchen in anticipation of a treat.  None were forthcoming.

I am rethinking my reading for the holiday weekend.  I have a graphic novel entitled Marbles.  It is about being bipolar.  Looks like an enjoyable read for a weekend.

I have a lunch invite today, if the weather clears by 11.  I'd have to walk into town but it's a nice day, in spite of the rain.

The Cerberus of Catdom.  Obviously without treats there must have been something of more interest on television.

Dawn of the bookshelf

Like any good Authority Czarina, I have an excess of books and not a lot of room to keep them given the size of the condo.  I have a new bookshelf which is more aesthetically pleasing than practical, but cool nonetheless.  Here is Gastric's son, my long lost nephew Bubba, putting the shelf together.  He is flanked by two other bookcases.  I read a lot, but could read more.  The next title up is "Mothers Who Can't Love", another opus by Susan Forward.  I got a great deal out of the book about emotional blackmail and can't wait to start this new one.

Gonif is going berserk.  It's raining like all get out and he is literally bouncing off the walls.  Literally.  Nothing to do with the weather but a surfeit of energy.  And at seven years of age I am glad he has it. Yankel is his own Greek chorus, Strophe and Antistrophe.  Simcha is watching from his perch atop the cat tree and wondering, not quite aloud, if he should get in the game.

It's raining, it's pouring
No going to Mickey D's
This morning.

Adieu

Dawn of the Duck

As is my habit in the mornings I open the mail room door to allow early access to the library for staff. Gastric usually sits with me and we discuss, no, not turtles, but this morning Dawn of the Duck.  A female duck came to visit us and while she was drinking water from puddles in the parking lot I got some of a duck's most favorite food, breadsticks (What, no pasta?).  I was able to hand feed her for almost twenty minutes while Gastric took this photo.  When the Donut Lady, Amy, arrived she pulled in very carefully and I was able to herd the the duck away from her van.  And then the unthinkable happen: the duck pooped in the puddle.  I guess it is another instance of Garbage in, Garbage out.  She ate some more breadsticks before taking off for the river.

So, here is the photo that Gastric took with her phone. Of course you can see this is my best side...I hope she doesn't return tomorrow as I will be home sleeping, I hope, or practicing reading music...