aamcnamara

This entire entry is about food, cats, and the weather.

Right now, strawberry-rhubarb muffins and strawberry-rhubarb sauce stand cooling in plastic containers. Nom. The magic of baking is, I'd say, somewhere between the point where I put a quart of strawberries and two sticks of rhubarb in my grocery basket and now. Or possibly it stretches through that whole time. Are the muffins inherent in the strawberries and rhubarb, if that is my intent? Quite possibly.

The resident cat attempted to sniff the cooling muffins. Too bad: they are all for humans, none for her. (Resident cat becomes friendlier and friendlier--she now occasionally brushes vaguely against my leg, totally not looking for pets/cuddles, or tips over near my foot to streeeetch. I am amused and slightly charmed by this, but alas am still allergic.)

For last night's dinner, I sauteed chicken in olive oil, added basil and oregano, and then at the last moment chopped up some mixed salad greens, tipped them into the frying pan, and stirred. Meanwhile, Kate made pasta. This meal also qualified as nom. Improvising food is something I find deeply enjoyable.

It's a nice drippy day outside, but I miss the Minnesota thunderstorms of the last couple of weeks of June, the crash and deluge and tornado warnings, how intense the storms get. This is also the time of year for MITY, of course, and I miss sitting in Carnegie Hall with a bunch of writers and peers, making posters about ourselves and having writing time or ridiculous writing exercises. Minnesota weather in late June is all tied up in that too: sitting inside with writer-friends, talking, writing, listening to the storm.

Hardly a week left of June, now. How time does fly.