Not for Mark

John and his brother Mark visit each other every few weeks. Sometimes John goes over to Mark's house in PA, and sometimes Mark comes here to NJ. They talk about deer and other assorted manly topics and spend a few hours together. I often offer Mark lunch when it gets to be that time, but he rarely takes me up on it. He does, however, like my candy dish. 

This is just a dish from my grandmother that I like and what better thing to keep in it than candy. It did have some Hershey kisses and two Reese's peanut butter eggs in it. Sometime after Mark left last Sunday, John asked me if I ate the last peanut butter eggs. I had not; in fact, I was kind of saving them for later. We figured out that Mark must have eaten them. While I don't begrudge Mark a few pieces of candy, I was a little sad that I no longer had any.

So I made some.  It's really just the taste of peanut butter and chocolate that I wanted, so I used this simple recipe. I had all five of the ingredients; it's relatively simple to make, and doesn't require any baking. Clean up was a little messy but it was just two bowls, a few spoons, and a measuring cup. 

I sliced them up into small portions and I'll be storing them in the refrigerator. I doubt Mark will go in there to eat my peanut butter and chocolate confections, but it makes enough that I might even offer him a few pieces the next time he's here.

 

 

 

It's been quite a week here, but now I can enjoy some homemade chocolate and peanut butter bars. I think they're even better than drinking!

A Gathering of Poetry for National Poetry Month: April 2025

Today our focus is on Aging. We're all aging, even the youngest of us, so I think it's a good idea to face it with poetry. I chose this poem because it captures my dear Mother-in-law's last days so clearly when she was in the hospital after a fall (and I also love the title). She was using a wheeled walker and when one of the welds broke she fell and broke her pelvis. I wish she had made progress to take five steps, but it was not to be.

 

Jellyfish Olympics

by Cristina M. R. Norcross

There are wires and cords
that stretch out, 
hang dangling
from the hospital bed,
the transparent filigree 
of a floating jellyfish.
One leads to the phone
to order food. 
One leads to the TV, so we can stare at
cooking shows with delicacies not available here.
One leads to compression wraps
for your vulnerable legs.
Another leads to the IV ports 
in your bruised, crepe-skinned arm.

In between your long spells of sleeping
and my knitting, 
we enjoy the pretend competition
of the contestants cooking.
We marvel at how quickly 
they move about the kitchen.
I marvel even more at your careful movements
and the miracle of progress after your fall.
We count the steps you take
as if you are skipping stones—
any number makes you a winner. 
You fight for everyday markers of strength,
your efforts a perfect ten.
This is the Olympics of rehabilitation.

Cotton gown diamond patterns 
become your fashion.
We look out the window as day becomes night.
Another day passes 
in the goldfish bowl of recovery,
a blue ribbon day of taking five steps 
just to turn around
and walk back to the bed.

====

Norcross, Cristina M.R. "Jellyfish Olympics". Poem-a-Day on November 8, 2021, by the Academy of American Poets. 

You can read more about the poet here.  

====

Be sure to check in with Kym, Kat, Sarah, and Vera (there is a linkup below) for more poetry today, and join us next Thursday for more poems in celebration of National Poetry Month. (And remember that any time is good for poetry, not just Thursdays in April!) 

Unraveled Wednesday: 4/16/25

I'm joining Kat and the Unravelers today with an FO. 

My Barn Owl socks are done and I'm happy with them. At first the colors reminded me of chickadees, but now I think they are more in a barn owl colorway. I tried to get them to match but I would have hard to get rid of a lot of yarn to do that, so they almost match which is good enough for me. I was so taken with Sarah's socks for Molly that I had to purchase my own skein of yarn, and I've heard that another knitter may also be making copycat socks in the future. I hope Sarah gets her commission check from Fibernymph Dye Works soon! I had forgotten that it can be calming to knit socks, so there may be another pair in the near future, but I haven't yet wound the yarn. 

 

Another relaxing thing is working on a Hitchhiker so I've also been doing that.

 

 

I took the photo mid-row because I got interrupted seven times (no exaggeration), so I figured that meant I should just take the picture. It's still just the deepest purple (Wollmeise calls it Petit Poison dark, which is slightly intriguing). I have a plan for when I change to the next color, so I hope I get there soon so I can see if it will work.

I finished two three-star books this week that I had hoped might be better than they turned out to be. Fredrik Backman has a gift for writing about the emotional intricacies of human relationships, and My Friends is no exception. His usual warmth, empathy, and humor are present to some degree, and there are several moments that tug at the heart in that signature Backman way. The themes of grief, connection, and redemption are handled with care, and he also wrote some interesting things about art.

That said, this one didn’t quite hit as hard as some of his previous works. The pacing felt uneven, and at times, the narrative leaned too heavily on introspection and monologue, making it feel slower than necessary. None of the characters felt fully developed or as compelling as those in A Man Called Ove. Overall, this book was too simplistic and saccharine for me. I honestly struggled to finish as it felt like something had happened to what I remembered as Backman's previous high-quality writing. Maybe something got lost in translation, but as a US reader this quote seemed strange, “It really is a remarkably bad idea, all this. Worse than socks in a toaster.” There are others that are just as odd.

This isn’t a bad book by any means—it has some touching and beautifully written parts—but it didn’t leave the lasting impact I’ve had from previous Backman novels. Fans will still find value here, but it might not convert new readers. Two and a half stars rounded up.

Thank you to Edelweiss and Atria for providing me with a copy of this book. It will be published on May 6, 2025. 

Rope by Tim Queeney offers an unexpected deep dive into a topic most of us take for granted. I'm not sure I would say that rope is "the backbone of civilization", but the author does explore how rope has literally and figuratively held the world together. From Ötzi's death from a flint arrowhead, to pyramid building in ancient Egypt, how rope was used in punishment, and how important rope was in landing Curiosity on Mars, the subject is more fascinating than it might seem at first glance. The book shines when it leans into quirky historical tidbits and surprising innovations.

That said, the tone can be a bit uneven—sometimes breezy and humorous, other times overly detailed or dry. It reads more like a collection of rope-related anecdotes than a cohesive narrative, which may work for some readers but felt slightly disjointed to me. This book is crying out for illustrations! I often wished for visuals and diagrams to complement the content, especially in the more technical sections. I found myself searching the internet often while I read so I could picture pyramid building, khipu, and ropewalks. Still, it’s a solid read if you enjoy niche histories or just enjoy learning how everyday things came to be. Not quite gripping from start to finish, but it was informative. Three and a half stars rounded down.

Thank you to NetGalley and St. Martin's Press for providing me with a copy of this book. It will be published on August 12, 2025.

What are you making and reading this week?

 

Read With Us: It's A New Book Announcement!

If you’ve ever felt the thrill of discovering a literary gem before the rest of the world catches on, our next Read With Us book is your next must-read—and we’re diving in together.

 

 

We'll be exploring the richly layered, emotionally resonant novel Nesting, a debut that’s already stirring up conversations across literary circles. Roisín O’Donnell, known for her award-winning short fiction, brings her signature lyrical touch to this compelling story of motherhood, identity, recognition, and transformation.

Without giving too much away—because trust me, you’ll want to experience every twist for yourself—Nesting centers on Ciara Fay, a woman navigating the complexities of pregnancy, relationships, and learning to trust what she is experiencing and stand up for her children and herself. O’Donnell’s prose is vivid and often emotionally wrenching, yet still hopeful. What does it mean to make a home, to protect it, and to let it go?

Nesting has been longlisted for The Women's Prize for Fiction. Chair of judges for the Women’s Prize Kit de Waal said the book was:

"a moving story, well told about what it’s like to try and leave an abusive relationship, the hurdles, the stigma, the doubt, the ease and temptation of return. Not maudlin or depressing, there’s lots of light here but ultimately this is about a system ripe for change where getting help is nearly as hard as escape itself."

The hardcover, Kindle, and audio versions of the book are all available from my library without much of a wait. Hopefully, we'll all have plenty of time to place a hold, get the book, and read it. The Kindle and paperback versions are priced reasonably from Amazon and the audio version is narrated beautifully by Louisa Harland. I'm sure your local bookseller could order a copy for you if you're lucky enough to have a local bookseller.

Kym, Carole, and I will be talking about the book, giving additional information, and doing promotional posts through April and May. Discussion day for Nesting is scheduled for Tuesday, June 10, 2025 at 7:00 pm Eastern time, so mark your calendars. We'll ask questions on our blogs that day and then host the always fun, educational, and entertaining Zoom discussion.

Nesting is an important and powerful book and I do hope you'll Read With Us!

Good, Better, Best

Since I'm busy catching up with ARCs and library loans this week, I finished three books and decided to review them all together today. They fell nicely in a line of three, four, and five stars for me, so I'll start with the three star (really 3.5) book. 

Raising Hare by Chloe Dalton has a fascinating premise, but the execution didn't fully deliver for me. The idea of forming a connection with a wild hare is compelling, yet the memoir gets bogged down by too much history and factual explanations about the differences between hares and rabbits. At times, it feels more like a lecture than a story, pulling focus away from the emotional core of the book.

While Dalton’s writing is undeniably poetic and immersive, I found myself wanting more insight into how this experience truly changed her. The personal reflection often takes a backseat to the informational passages, which makes the narrative feel unbalanced.

That said, the book still offers moments of beauty and deep observation, and readers who enjoy nature writing with a scholarly touch may appreciate it more. A solid 3.5 stars—engaging in parts, but I wished for a stronger focus on the author's emotional transformation at its heart. There is a Goodreads giveaway for this book in case you are interested. 

 

Andrew Porter’s The Imagined Life is a beautifully written and deeply introspective novel about the weight of the past and the cycles we fear we cannot escape. At its heart is a middle-aged professor, Steven Mills, grappling with the legacy of his father—a brilliant but troubled academic who disappeared from from his family after being denied tenure. As Steven embarks on a road trip to revisit his memories and the people who were involved with his father, he unpacks his father’s struggles with mental illness, homosexuality, and self-destruction, all while confronting his own anxieties about repeating some of those same patterns with his own family.

Porter’s prose is quiet yet powerful, weaving together themes of loss, identity, and the often invisible forces that shape who we become. The novel is not plot-driven but instead unfolds as a layered psychological portrait, one that lingers in the mind with its aching emotional depth. The quotes from Proust and Stevie Nicks' song lyrics add depth and atmosphere to the story.

At times, the narrative’s introspective nature may feel slow, but the reward is a story that resonates deeply, especially for readers drawn to literary fiction that examines the complexities of family and selfhood. Thoughtful, moving, and quietly haunting, The Imagined Life is a novel that will stay with you long after the final page.

Thank you to Knopf and NetGalley for providing me with a copy of this book. It will be published on April 15, 2025. 

 

John Boyne delivers yet another emotionally astute and quietly devastating novel in The Elements. Known for his ability to delve into the moral complexities of human behavior, the book is composed of four deeply introspective novellas, "Water," "Earth," "Fire," and "Air," with each providing haunting, confronting, and moving investigations into sexual abuse and its consequences from different viewpoints. Each of the novellas is from a different perspective - the enabler, accomplice, a perpetrator, and a victim. The lives of the characters intersect across stories in intriguing ways. By linking the novellas and characters, the author shows us how the cycle of abuse can cause people to shift from one role to another.

Boyne’s prose is as elegant and restrained as ever. He doesn’t overwrite emotions—he trusts the reader to feel what’s not being said, which is exactly what makes this novel so moving. The book is steeped in melancholy because of Boyne's unflinchingly honest writing, but there are also flickers of hope and grace that make the stories feel like redemption may be a possibility.

What I appreciated most is Boyne’s refusal to offer neat resolutions. Many of the relationships in The Elements, between parents and children, between teammates, and even between physicians and those who should trust them, are fractured in ways that feel painfully real. There’s an authenticity in the way Boyne portrays long-term consequences of personal failings and the difficulty along with the hardship of forgiveness.

If you’re already a Boyne fan, The Elements will feel like a natural continuation of his thematic explorations. If you’re new to his work, it’s a beautifully self-contained introduction to his sharp insight into flawed humanity. Highly recommended for readers who enjoy introspective fiction, literary family dramas, and stories about reconciliations that don’t come easy. It was hard to read because of the subject matter, but because it was written by John Boyne, it was even harder to put down.

Thank you to Henry Holt and Co. and NetGalley. This book will be published on September 9, 2025. I'm sorry to tell you about this amazing five-star book that won't be published for another four months, but for me it was one of those books that was so good that I want to tell everyone about it. 

What are you reading? I hope it's something good and I'd love to hear about it in the comments. 

National Poetry Month: Poems In Your Pocket

Today we're two weeks into National Poetry Month and we've got Poems In Our Pockets. This just means that we are focusing on short poems. Short, of course, is relative but if the poems are short enough, you can memorize them, recite them, print them out and leave copies in the produce section of the grocery store (or almost wherever strikes your fancy). You can read more about Poem In Your Pocket Day here.  

 

A Truth That Tells You

by Maggie Smith

I wish for you a small, portable truth you can take
anywhere—no foreign adaptors needed,
no translation required and nothing lost in it.

Once, looking at a map, my daughter said,
A river is a line the world drew for us. I wish for you
a truth that stays true across any line drawn

by the world or its people, a truth that tells you
wherever you arrive, you are welcome.

====

Smith, Maggie. "A Truth That Tells You". Maggie Smith wrote this specially for Poem in Your Pocket Day in 2019.

You can read more about the poet here.  

You can read more about Nelson Minar and his map of every river in the 48 contiguous states here. 

====

Be sure to check in with Kym, Kat, Sarah, and Vera (there is a linkup below) for more poetry today, and join us next Thursday for more poems in celebration of National Poetry Month. (And remember that any time is good for poetry, not just Thursdays in April!)  

 

Unraveled Wednesday: 4/9/25

I'm joining Kat and the Unravelers today with a little more progress on the socks.

I'm at that stage when you say (or at least I've told myself), "I'll just knit down this foot, knit the toe, and then I'll be done!" The process that I've told myself will just take a little while will, in fact, take me a little while longer. I've been knitting monogamously on the sock because I know that if I put it down to work on the Hitchhiker, I will likely never finish the socks. So I'll keep plugging along in hope that I can finish them by next week and get a good start on the Hitchhiker.

 

I've been busy catching up on ARCs and library books, so I finished three books this week. I do kind of go on in my reviews, so I'll review them on Friday. 

What are you making and reading this week?

 

Signs of Spring

I had to take a quick walk up to the post office and I was surprised at how many things I saw that show spring is really on the way. It's only 38 degrees and there is a cold rain as I'm writing this but I think you'll still be convinced that spring is arriving in central NJ.

The gazebo may not look especially springy, but they did take down the Christmas decorations on Friday so that's a sure sign. There are lots of Easter decorations; I couldn't miss some of them even if I wanted to.

And of course there are plenty of flowers and trees in blossom. 

 

But one of my favorite signs of spring is when my neighbor calls the guys who spread new mulch in his yard and they carefully mulch around the old bag of topsoil in his ivy bed . . .  for the third year in a row. 

 

Now I know spring is here!

Invasives, Pollinators, and the Oldest Independent Bookstore in PA

Last week I went to visit John's sister and her husband to help with some scheduling issues they had. My niece was traveling so my SiL was staying with her son and making sure he got to school, that there was someone at home when he got home from school, and then there was some nagging about homework to be done. My BiL also had to be driven to cardiac rehab that was an hour away, plus we hadn't seen them since his big open heart surgery.

It was great to see how well my BiL Bill is doing, gaining more energy and strength every week. He feels he'll be ready to return to Silver Sneakers at the YMCA in the next few weeks. It turns out that fourth graders don't seem to have nearly as much homework as I recall my own kids having, but I wasn't going to resort to searching my grandnephew's backpack. We did play quite a bit of Animal Crossing and being the "Grand Aunt" that I am, I gave him a million bells (Animal Crossing currency) to pay off his mortgage. 

But it wasn't all transportation and child tending. While we were in Williamsport for cardiac rehab, I got to browse the oldest independent bookstore in PA. Otto Bookstore was established in 1841 and is still going strong. They had a wonderful selection of books and it was so enjoyable to browse a real brick-and-mortar bookstore, something I haven't done in a long time. I was overcome by the book fumes and bought myself hardcover copies of The Comfort of Crows and The Backyard Bird Chronicles. I don't often have the opportunity to support an independent bookstore, but it was a win-win for me. 

 

We also attended a native plant and pollinator workshop. (The photos from that aren't the best because I was taking pictures of projected slides. Sorry; I hope you can read them.) I learned some new things, like Burning Bush, Norway maple, English Ivy, Pachysandra, Butterfly Bush, and Common Periwinkle are all invasive species. These plants are all quite common in my neighborhood! Our town cut down all the Bradford Pear trees that were lining Main Street and there was a big outcry, but now I understand why they got rid of them.

I also learned that there are many Native Bee species that are responsible for pollinating about one third of our crops. They tend to nest in the ground or in hollow pithy plant stems.

I might try making a bee house if I can gather enough hollow plant stems. I think this will be a good simple project as spring approaches, and it might even make me feel as good as supporting an independent bookstore!

It's National Poetry Month!

And we've got Hope! To celebrate National Poetry Month, several of us are sharing poetry with you on Thursdays in April. Today's topic is about something we can all use more of, wherever and whenever we can find it - Hope. 

 

A House Called Tomorrow

by Alberto Rios

You are not fifteen, or twelve, or seventeen—
You are a hundred wild centuries

And fifteen, bringing with you
In every breath and in every step

Everyone who has come before you,
All the yous that you have been,

The mothers of your mother,
The fathers of your father.

If someone in your family tree was trouble,
A hundred were not:

The bad do not win—not finally,
No matter how loud they are.

We simply would not be here
If that were so.

You are made, fundamentally, from the good.
With this knowledge, you never march alone.

You are the breaking news of the century.
You are the good who has come forward

Through it all, even if so many days
Feel otherwise.  But think:

When you as a child learned to speak,
It’s not that you didn’t know words—

It’s that, from the centuries, you knew so many,
And it’s hard to choose the words that will be your own.

From those centuries we human beings bring with us
The simple solutions and songs,

The river bridges and star charts and song harmonies
All in service to a simple idea:

That we can make a house called tomorrow.
What we bring, finally, into the new day, every day,

Is ourselves.  And that’s all we need
To start.  That’s everything we require to keep going. 

Look back only for as long as you must,
Then go forward into the history you will make.

Be good, then better.  Write books.  Cure disease.
Make us proud.  Make yourself proud.

And those who came before you?  When you hear thunder,
Hear it as their applause.

====

Rios, Alberto. "A House called Tomorrow." Not Go Far Away Is My Name, Copper Canyon Press, 2020.  

You can read more about the poet here.

====

Be sure to check in with Kym, Kat, Sarah, and Vera (there is a linkup below) for more poetry full of hope today, and join us next Thursday for more poems in celebration of National Poetry Month. (And remember that any time is good for poetry, not just Thursdays in April!) 

Unraveled Wednesday: 4/2/25

I'm joining Kat and the Unravelers today with a bit of progress on the pair of socks. 

 

I did cast on with the Wollmeise for a new Hitchhiker, but haven't gotten too far. I'd like to finish up the socks soon(ish) and concentrate on the Hitchhiker but I've got loads of laundry to do, lots of seeds to start, and too many ARCs that I need to read, so it will take as long as it takes. 

 

I finished Emma Pattee's debut novel, Tilt, a gripping narrative set against the backdrop of a massive earthquake in Portland, Oregon. The story follows Annie, who, at nine months pregnant, finds herself stranded at IKEA when disaster strikes. With no means to contact her husband and the city in chaos, Annie embarks on a perilous journey to find him, encountering both the depths and heights of human nature along the way.

Pattee's portrayal of Annie's internal struggles while making her way on buckled highways and past crushed buildings—her reflections on a faltering marriage, unfulfilled career aspirations, and impending motherhood—adds depth to the survival narrative. The novel effectively captures the protagonist's anxieties and desires, making her a realistic and relatable figure for many readers.

I found that the novel's pacing occasionally faltered, with the non-linear narrative and some of the introspective passages slowing down the otherwise tense story. Additionally, certain inconsistencies, such as descriptions of Annie's attire, may momentarily disrupt immersion. But Pattee's prose is well-written, so I could imagine Annie's sunburn, intense thirst, and the horrific magnitude of the chaos. I started reading the book without any idea of the storyline and found it quite unsettling, but that was mainly because it was such an intense subject. The ending felt incomplete and open-ended.

Overall, Tilt is a compelling exploration of human resilience and vulnerability in the face of catastrophe. While it has its imperfections, the novel's raw emotional portrayal and thought-provoking themes make it a worthwhile read. Three and a half stars but I couldn't round up because of that ending. 

 

What are you making and reading this week?

Unraveled Wednesday: 3/26/25

I'm joining Kat and the Unravelers today with some progress on a sock. I was knitting along quite quickly and even dug out another skein of self-striping yarn from my stash. You know, just in case the knitting elves stopped by and finished this pair for me. It was a bit premature as I haven't even completed one sock of this current pair. But knitters' hopes spring eternal, so I will continue with the current socks and hope to cast on for a new Hitchhiker this afternoon.

I finished two average three-star books this week. Every Tom, Dick & Harry was a complete bit of fluff, with much of it bordering on preposterous. Emma Lewis takes over her parents' estate sale business and moves into their house when they retire; her high-school math teacher rents a room in the house; she ends up running the estate sale at a former B&B/"house of ill repute" in her hometown, and there is a tiny bit of a mystery thrown into the plot. But this book was entertaining enough that it provided a welcome diversion from the terrible current affairs, and for that I gave it an extra half star. 

 

Everything is Tuberculosis by John Green is an interesting, if at times meandering, exploration of how tuberculosis has shaped human history, literature, and public health. As always, Green’s writing is deeply personal, blending his curiosity with poignant reflection. He has a gift for making even the most niche subjects feel engaging, and his trademark footnotes and asides add to the narrative.

That said, the book sometimes struggles with cohesion. The essay-style structure occasionally feels disjointed here, with some chapters delving deeply into historical case studies while others feel more like personal musings with only a loose connection to the central theme. Readers looking for a more structured historical or deeper scientific analysis might find it lacking.

Still, Green’s passion for the subject is evident, and his ability to weave together cultural criticism, medical history, and personal anecdotes makes for an insightful (if slightly uneven) read. The book serves as a good reminder that tuberculosis is not a disease of the past, and we would do well to pay attention now and spend the necessary money on treatment so we don't end up with a greater number of cases that are multi-drug-resistant. Fans of his previous nonfiction work will likely enjoy it, but those expecting a more traditional deep dive into tuberculosis may want to supplement it with other sources. He does helpfully provide suggested books for further reading.

I'm up visiting John's sister and her husband (the one who had open heart surgery) so I won't be posting for a few days. Instead I'll be helping with transport to cardiac rehab., urging a ten-year-old to do his homework before we play Animal Crossing, and maybe doing a bit of cooking. I'll be back sometime next week.

What are you making and reading this week?

 

Read With Us: The Secret History Discussion

Today is the discussion day for our Read With Us winter book, The Secret History by Donna Tartt.

Kym, Carole, and I are each posting a discussion question or two on our blogs today, and you are welcome to respond in the comments. I would also encourage you to reply to others' comments if you choose.  This is a book discussion, after all, so there are no correct answers or right opinions. I've been looking forward to discussing this book, even though I've been thinking of it as The Bunch of Awful Privileged Characters and the Morally Bankrupt Man That Taught Them. I don't know of a better bunch of people for a book discussion than all of you.

So my questions are about Julian Morrow, the Classics professor. Julian finds out about the murders in the section after he receives that heartbreaking final letter from Bunny. When Richard sees Julian’s reaction, he mentally reclassifies Julian as no longer a “good parent” but someone “ambiguous, a moral neutral, whose beguiling trappings concealed a being watchful, capricious, and heartless.” What did you think of Julian? He is an enigmatic and charismatic presence in The Secret History, revered by his students for his deep knowledge of the Classics and his unconventional teaching methods. To what extent do you think Julian is a true mentor and father figure, and how much of his influence is merely performative? Does he genuinely care for his students, or is he more of a detached observer? Considering his role in shaping their worldview, do you believe he bears any responsibility for the events that unfold, including the murders? Why or why not?

 

I'll be glad to share my thoughts about these questions tonight during our Zoom discussion. These questions on our blogs and the Zoom discussion are your chance to express your ideas. So what do you think? I can't wait to hear your thoughts! (And I'm counting on our discussion to give me fresh perspectives in my own thinking about this novel.)

The in-person Zoom discussion will be at 7:00 pm Eastern this evening. If you haven't RSVP'd to Kym already you can send me an email (the email address is in the upper right) and I will make sure you get an invitation with the Zoom link. I hope to see you there!

 

On Food

Last weekend seemed to revolve around food. It started on Friday when Ryan had a pork roast, some chicken thighs, and a half gallon of milk all spoil in his refrigerator. I recommended that he get a refrigerator thermometer and check the temperature and then we would proceed from there. 

After a few hours, the temperature seemed to settle on 42 degrees which is really too warm for a refrigerator. I found a repair person who was willing to come Saturday morning to assess the problem and Ryan vacuumed the coils and cleaned the fans. When he woke up early Saturday morning, the temperature had stabilized at 35 degrees. We cancelled the repair person as there was no sense paying for a service call when there didn't appear to be anything to repair. 

I had planned to make a pork loin on Saturday and some crockpot tortellini on Sunday, but I switched them around. I wasn't sure if I would be going over to Ryan's to rescue all the things in his freezer on Saturday and if I would be back in time to do the pork loin. It turned out that my Saturday was essentially free after I had dumped everything in the crockpot, so I sat and knit on my sock while I watched Barefoot Contessa. I've never watched her show before, but I noticed some things during my viewing marathon that I thought might help with my own preparing and serving of food.

Daffodils in a vase are an arrangement low enough to see over.

• I need to use more adjectives when John asks what's for dinner. Instead of saying "pork", I should reply with "succulent loin of pork, marinated with fragrant garlic, rosemary, and wine".
  

• I should say "really good" more often, as in "I used good vanilla", or "This is really good olive oil". 

• Prosciutto wrapped around things (figs, melon slices) sound like easy and delicious appetizers, and they can be served at room temperature. She did make an accompaniment to a salad by wrapping hard salami around a breadstick, but that seemed a little ghetto for Ina.

• Always describe arugula as "peppery".  

• John will appreciate dinner more if I tell him that "I turned the flavor up."

• Ask loudly "How easy is that?" at frequent intervals while cooking.  

I do appreciate how she doesn't make really fancy and complicated dishes and her enthusiasm for good food is contagious, but after a whole afternoon of Ina, I was ready for a plain grilled cheese sandwich, made without turning the flavor up in any way.

 

A Gathering of Poetry: March 2025

It's the third Thursday of the month so I'd like to welcome you to A Gathering of Poetry. I don't know where I found this poem, but I love the word "swobtoggle", so I've been saving it until flowers and grass were beginning to get "high on the expensive chemistry of their mitochondrial explosion."

Happy Little Grass Cells (actually vascular bundles, xylem and phloem) as seen under magnification.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Please Don't

by Tony Hoagland 

tell the flowers—they think

the sun loves them.

The grass is under the same

simple-minded impression

about the rain, the fog, the dew.

And when the wind blows,

it feels so good

they lose control of themselves

and swobtoggle wildly

around, bumping accidentally into their

slender neighbors.

Forgetful little lotus-eaters,

solar-powered

hydroholics, drawing nourishment up

through stems into their

thin green skin,

high on the expensive

chemistry of mitochondrial explosion,

believing that the dirt

loves them, the night, the stars—

reaching down a little deeper

with their pale albino roots,

all Dizzy

Gillespie with the utter

sufficiency of everything.

They don't imagine lawn

mowers, the four stomachs

of the cow, or human beings with boots

who stop to marvel

at their exsquisite

flexibility and color.

They persist in their soft-headed

hallucination of happiness.

But please don't mention it.

Not yet. Tell me

what would you possibly gain

from being right?

 

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Tony Hoagland, "Please Don’t" from Application for Release from the Dream. Copyright © 2015 by Tony Hoagland.

You can read more about the poet here.

 

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