Deluge, with dogs
There was a freak break in the sheets of rain this morning, during which I happened to be getting those darling little waste producers out for their constitutional. Afterwards, I drove up north to the Puget Sound Consumer Co-op, acronymically known as PCC, to obtain more maple butter. One can never have enough maple butter socked away for the end of the world...
Hied me mum to her hairdresser, hied meself and beloved son off to the climbing gym for our last resort exercising. As we climbed up and along the roof inside the gym, the deluge resumed, so loud we couldn't even hear the hip hop mix on the gym's speakers. And it's too warm, so this nasty rain won't even translate into a snowpack up in the mountains; the snow level's above 6,000 feet.
Beloved spouse could not leave Eastern Washington tonight, has to stay another night dealing with recalcitrant computers.
Heard a holiday-related song this morning on KBCS, a local public radio station, which has a variety of programs. This tune was from about 1935, I think, and was entitled,"Papa ain't no Santa Claus, and yo Mama ain't no Christmas Tree." Performed by The Butterbeans and Suzie.
The Butterbeans - dang, I like that name! The gist of the song was dissing back and forth between a pair of pissed-off lovers.
Have begun reading collected stories of Elizabeth Bowen.
Hied me mum to her hairdresser, hied meself and beloved son off to the climbing gym for our last resort exercising. As we climbed up and along the roof inside the gym, the deluge resumed, so loud we couldn't even hear the hip hop mix on the gym's speakers. And it's too warm, so this nasty rain won't even translate into a snowpack up in the mountains; the snow level's above 6,000 feet.
Beloved spouse could not leave Eastern Washington tonight, has to stay another night dealing with recalcitrant computers.
Heard a holiday-related song this morning on KBCS, a local public radio station, which has a variety of programs. This tune was from about 1935, I think, and was entitled,"Papa ain't no Santa Claus, and yo Mama ain't no Christmas Tree." Performed by The Butterbeans and Suzie.
The Butterbeans - dang, I like that name! The gist of the song was dissing back and forth between a pair of pissed-off lovers.
Have begun reading collected stories of Elizabeth Bowen.
posted by isabelita at 8:26 PM
4 Comments:
I'm with ya, Isa, on the maple butter, but I'll take my sap in the form of syrup. Nothing better on pancakes, there is no substitute for the real maple. When I was running in New England, you always new it was the start of spring when the buckets whent up on the trees.
There I go again, typing Knew as new. What is it with my hand not hitting the K when I know it should be on there. Sorry for getting that typo twice in three comments.
Oh, I like maple syrup too, 'spike, but maple butter is made from it, cooked down more and whipped, no dairy prodicts involved, resulting in a rich-tasting, golden creamy ambrosia which one applies to toast, spoons, fingers, gingerbread cookies, one's forearm...it's not artificial.
Oh, no need to apologize for typos. Besides, I ahve a master's degree in Ed., with a reading specialty, so I am well-versed in phonics! ;0)
kathy, this stuff is so delicious, it could be spread upon just about anything and enjoyed...
And I'm essentially a chocolate aficionado!
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