Saturday, October 4, 2014

the storm
















It was a bright, temperate day as Spoke and I drove down Mockingbird Lane to catch a film at Angelika.  Little traffic made for a quick drive and we were settled into our top row seats before the previews started.  That can be a good thing or a bad thing I’ve come to think; good if the previews are new to you, bad if you must sit through them again, your small bag of popcorn half consumed before the feature begins.

I was looking forward to this one--- set in Paris!  Our post movie dinner plans would be based around croissants in the freezer and I was waiting to see if the film leaned us toward soup and salade or fines herbs omelets.  Either would be fine with me.  

When it was over, I'd wished for more sights of the city and its cuisine, but we left content and in awe of the acting.  Pulling out of the covered garage parking lot, we entered into what was, we thought, a typical Dallas afternoon storm.  It took only a couple of blocks for the severity to hit us.  Lightning was scary and winds were fierce, blowing rain sideways and taking metal signs along.  The light at Greenville Avenue made us thankful for the long city bus on our right which blocked the east moving winds.  Most stoplights were out, there was debris everywhere, crape myrtles were uprooted and one huge tree blocked the entire three lane street forcing us to drive up over the curb and across someone’s manicured yard.  Trees lay toppled across many home roofs.
  
We were lucky and feeling blessed by the time we’d detoured, able to pull onto our street and see the two huge trees still standing front and back at our house.  We love these trees.  They are our shade in summer and our rustling leaves in autumn.
 
Six hours later our electricity was not yet on, quite understandable considering the widespread damage.  I rather liked the evening, liked being forced into creative submission; a flashlight, pen and paper became my entertainment.  I studied the interesting shadows on the walls.  

It was canned tuna for dinner without complaint.  From our dark bedroom, several hours earlier than our usual, Spoke and I listened for owls but they were mute in the eerie quiet of the still night.  We played word games, waiting for a breeze, any brief breeze.  I fell asleep before Spoke gave me his ten syllable word beginning with the letter “l”. . .  

Seventeen hours from the hit, chainsaws were heard all around.  Friday's morning paper reports winds were up to ninety miles per hour and a quarter of a million people are without power.  I go into the kitchen to make my morning cappuccino, the act providing our first laugh of the day.  I drink water instead.  

By evening, the hassle of the past twenty-seven hours is diminished with the flick of a switch.  We have power!
  
Today there's tremendous yard clean-up to be done, the refrigerator and freezers need to be cleaned out.  Most of the bounty in the full freezer has fared well and I am thankful for it, especially the still frozen pesto which was painstakingly made by mortar and pestle.  This was a prolific summer for basil, yielding two large batches which filled numerous jars with pesto and more to be made soon.  

With the oven working again, tonight we'll finally enjoy those croissants.  I'll heat them; crisp on the outside with flaky layers inside.  We will have them with soup and salade.




Sunday, September 28, 2014

Tuesday, September 23, 2014

9.23.14



Though different, just as nice as afternoon light casting shadows on a dining room wall; rays through the window, not a candle, light up the rose bowl on this first day of autumn. 

Fitting too that earlier today I made a yummy pesto, round two of thick cuttings because the basil did indeed get that high.  

Nothing broke my heart though.  

Only smiles on this lovely day.




Wednesday, July 16, 2014

needed

a break.  from.  a book.  in progress. 


Monday, July 7, 2014

hot day in a cool cafe









The photos pretty much speak for how I spent my Sunday afternoon.  

I claimed a few hours to myself in this cozy place called rise n*1.  It's a souffle restaurant and this twinkling centerpiece which seems to rise high like a souffle, is my favorite fixture. 


You can choose how to spend an afternoon here; seek refuge in a corner, enjoy the sunny patio, even sit on the couch or in an easy chair.  There's a couple of bar options too; the classic which has a window open to the patio or the even smaller counter positioned in front of the ovens where you can watch the many souffles in all their stages to greatness.  

















I did several of those things today.  I contemplated purchases from the sitting-shopping area, watched the ramekins in the oven, talked wine and souffles with Jennifer at the bar, enjoying a refreshing, dry rose I'm thrilled she recommended.  













Esther brought me bread while Pete and I talked about cameras.













Rob the bartender arrived and we discussed life in Dallas.  













Esther recommended the salmon souffle.  Thank you Esther!


rise n*1 was everything I wanted it to be today.  I look forward to another experience another Sunday afternoon.  Or quiet Tuesday evening.  Or bustling Saturday night. . .





 


rise n*1,  Lovers Lane, Dallas 


Monday, June 23, 2014

boys
















The summer sun was not meant for boys like me.  

Boys like me belonged to the rain.





 

Aristotle and Dante Discover the Secrets of the Universe 
Benjamin Alire Saenz

Monday, June 2, 2014