Wishing you and your family the best possible Easter. It may not look the same as normal, but if we’re all still here to celebrate it in this new way, it’s still a win.
(And if there are gaps in your family where there didn’t used to be, then I’m sending very big hugs to you, because that really, really sucks.)
My plan for this weekend looks a lot like the rest of my week, except that it starts later in the day.
We’ve got video chats planned both days — one with college friends (and with whom we’ve not been in the same spot all together in nearly two decades) and one with my family.
I’m going to go to the garden. There are more violets to pick and lettuces to thin. There are communal chores to be completed alone (or, at least, alone with Rudi if he’s around).
The farmers market continues to be open on Sunday, although they’ve got new plans in place to cut down on exposure, and they’ve closed the composting. We can still take ours to the garden, but it’s definitely more work that way.
I expect to do some baking. The sourdough starter needs to be fed, which means it’s a good day to make bread. I have a shortbread recipe I want to bake, once Rudi tells me where he’s organized my semolina to. Plus, I might make scones for Sunday’s breakfast or pie our supper.
I need to do some tidying, because while I’ve got spots where one person can do a video chat respectably, that spot is not my couch, where both of us can sit together.
I’d like to send some mail. The stationery box is out, although it’s not especially well organized, and I keep having to sort through everything in my quest to find the type of card I’m looking for.
I hope to do some knitting. I wound a new ball of yarn during a call earlier this week. Plus, I have several projects I’m already working on.
I’d love it if Rudi wants to listen to some more of Good Omens. Or maybe Harry Potter and the Philosopher’s Stone. I understand the free copy that’s floating around all the libraries may be the Stephen Fry version (heretofore not available in the U.S.), and I’d love to see how he measures up to Jim Dale’s recitation. On my own, I’m listening to the the third Inspector Gamache novel and have Meg Cabot’s Size 12 Is Not Fat for if that gets too tense to listen to late at night.
There is always laundry to be done, although we are down to our last roll of quarters. Acquiring more requires hitting an atm for cash and then finding a bank that will exchange bills for coins. The one by our apartment has closed for the time being, but Rudi thinks there may be one nearby that’s still open, at least some days.
I have to get some extra walking in. I did better this week at getting outside after work had wrapped up, but my activity level is still way below where I’d be under normal circumstances.
And, finally, I’ll need to queue up some Jesus Christ Superstar and Gene Autry, since I won’t be at my folks’ place to hear our traditional Easter tunes.
Three beautiful things from my past week:
1. A family with two dachshunds walks past us. The older eyes the crinkly kites some kids are flying and decides to bark at them. The second is a puppy, who is happy just to pee now that they’ve reached the grass.
2. My garden is full of long-stemmed, fragrant violets, greens are big enough to start gathering for salad, and the peas are past knee-high.
3. CBS All-Access has given a month’s trial away for free, so Rudi and I are watching Picard only a little bit after everyone else we know.
How about you? What beautiful things have you been noticing in your world to keep things sane-ish?
Turns out, even when wearing a face mask (okay, so it was a tank top I repurposed), you can still notice the heavenly scent of lilacs when they first start blooming.
This bush was just before the Buffalo Bridge (many of D.C.’s bridges are nicknamed for the animal mascots guarding them). I didn’t finish up work until after 7 tonight, by which time the sun was below the tree line. So instead of wandering in the sun, I walked over to the Mt. Zion/Female Union Band Society cemetery, figuring that there might be fewer people there than on the sidewalk (which aren’t wide enough to accommodate the pedestrian crowding during a time of social distancing). Mostly, that was true, so I got to call my folks surrounded by the long dead, which seemed comforting. (For those of you who’ve actually read it, from that cemetery, you can see across the ravine to the cemetery, still used and gated, where Lincoln in the Bardo takes place.)
When we defrosted the freezer last week, I found a bag of pie crusts.
Tonight, I decided to make pie.
Well, technically it was a crumble, or maybe a crisp. Or maybe both, because I had too much filling and topping for just my normal-sized pie plate, and had to add some of each to my smaller-sized pie plate.
It all smelled amazing.
And the filling and the topping were perfect.
But the crust dough was freezer-burned. I’d thought the dough smelled off. But I talked myself out of it, because I really wanted pie.
Rudi and I have decided that we’ll just eat the filling. When life hands you lemons, you make lemonade. When it hands you dough, you make pie. And let’s face it, this is a way more interesting way to eat those apples than out of hand.
Today’s Top Ten Tuesday topic from That Artsy Reader Girl asks us to share the cause of how we’ve added certain books to our physical TBR piles. I decided to focus on ten books I bought because I loved their author’s earlier work:
How often do you buy books from an author, perhaps without giving it your normal amount of consideration, simply because you loved one of their previous works?