Saturday, October 16, 2010

Dinner for One

It is very rare these days that I eat dinner alone. (And that sentence right there should tell you, or me, something about my improved quality of life in the past two years.) When such occasions arise, I think, with a bit of dismay, "What am I going to do with all this extra time? And what am I going to have for dinner?" And then I think, with a bit of glee, "What am I going to do with all this extra time? What am I going to make for dinner? Will I create something with what's in the fridge? Will I go to New Seasons and buy something special? Will I work on a sewing project, finally? Will I catch up on my "Letters" category of e-mails? Will I read a good book?"

Earlier today I went to Mt. St. Helens, finally, and that was something I planned to do last October (which was much rainier.) Once I get the pictures developed, I'll write more about that. Of course, that's what I always say. Anyway, I came home as the sun was setting to an empty house. I'd already eaten a third of a bag of Trader Joe's trail mix (Macadamias mix Gingerly with Cranberries and Almonds, if you are interested). I remembered that I had half a package of whole wheat penne and half a can of chopped tomatoes. So I started making a half batch of my own recipe for tomato sauce.

Now that there's some kind of weird Jersey Mania, I bet my non-NJ readers are noting this little similarity I have with Guidettes. Oh, so that part of the stereotype is true. Except I don't call it "gravy." I know plenty of people (Italian-Jerseyans) who do. So that's true, too. I'm only 25% Italian.

And now I am settling down to catch up on blogs. I've recently re-discovered Svensto, the blog of the grandmother of Shreve Stockton, whose Daily Coyote I also sometimes follow. I recommend checking out both; they are really interesting. I'm not very far into "Svensto"'s blog, but so far, it's account of her life after coming to America as a Swedish immigrant. I've only just gotten to her engagement.

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