Winds Of Change

Today a sycamore seed ''helicopter' whirled down in front of me as I walked round the corner to go to a U3A play reading, and tonight, when I came across this image I'd created way back in March, I thought it captured the essence of that small, flying miracle. I decided to spice the soup with its rich colours...

A-pork-alypse?

I have no comment on this news story except that I thought pork was "the other white meat."

Britain fears an a-pork-alypse now

Rambles

A thought I had while I was on the first leg of last night's walk: I wonder if birds look down and think, "My wings are so tired. I wish I could walk with big strides like humans do. It looks so easy." They don't, I'm sure. Birds are lucky enough not to think of what might be.

I feel sorry for Dina Lohan. I do not follow the foolishness of people who are famous for being famous  and their ilk, but I've seen so much hype about the Dr. Phil interview with Ms. Lohan that I can't help having become familiar with what probably amounts to most of the substance of the interview. Was she drunk? Was she high on something other than alcohol? Who cares? To me, she appeared to be very self-conscious and terribly uncomfortable talking about some sad experiences. I recognize the quick quippiness that is supposed to charmingly distract the companion. "There you are in your little tie and your little shoes..." I used to do that! ...back in the days when I had even less self-esteem than I now do. Should she have grown up and started acting like a parent to her daughter? Well, sure. Should we all do some things differently than we do? Well, sure. But what happened to Dina that made her unable to act right? That's the question that nobody cares to ask.

I had my wedding ring resized . . . oh, all right . . . enlarged . . . and went to pick it up today. The jeweler was busy with another customer and a tall handsome elderly gentleman and I had a wonderful conversation. Nothing of substance, really. Just our life stories. Where he used to live, where I used to live, how nineteen years ago he and his wife sold their house and moved to an apartment so that after his death, she would have an easy place to live. "And now it's nineteen years later and she's gone and I'm here." And our stories of our years-long loyalty to this particular jeweler, and which of his granddaughters will get which of his watches. When he had finished his business we thanked each other for the pleasant chat. Sometimes a random conversation is worth a lot more than you'd think.

Empty nest but full crumble dishes

Yesterday, we saw off the Youngest Daughter, who's done her 4 years at uni and has now packed up her room at our house and gone off to the big world of work, living in London and becoming a cabin crew member for BA.

Being an Empty Nester is exhausting.  I am wearing myself out missing her saying, 'Hey, Mum, you HAVE to watch this Youtube clip'.  

But at least I had something to distract me from the emotion after she'd gone yesterday.  We had a big event at church this morning (a couple's wedding 'blessing' after their registry wedding yesterday) and I'd offered to make a shedload of apple and blackberry crumble for the meal.  We were expecting about 70 people.

I spent 4 hours in the kitchen yesterday making the crumbles.  With the radio on and a glass of wine to sip I was very happy chopping apples from 17 trees and making so much crumble mixture that if a beach in southern Spain had needed re-covering, I would have had the materials for it.

So, there I am, lunchtime today, standing behind a big table at church after the service with my crumbles, saying to people, 'This is apple and blackberry - would you like some?'  Next to me is a lady who's made an equal amount of pavlova.

'Apple and blackbe ....?'

'No, I'll have pavlova, please.' (Moves on.)

'Would you like some app ...?'

'Sorry - the pavlova looks nice, though.'  (Moves on.)

'This is ap ...'

'Looks lovely.  But I prefer the pavlova.'  (Moves on.)

'Can I help you to some ...?'

'Pavlova, please.'  (Moves on.)

'Ap ..?'

'Ooh, no, pavlova for me, please.'  (Moves on.)

I made 6 crumbles.  Two got eaten (people tend to give in if you cry).  The rest came home with me.

So, not only has my youngest child abandoned me, but in a cruel irony, I have enough crumble in the house to feed thirty daughters.

Any of you who live in Warwickshire are very welcome to drop in.