Weekend accomplishments
Saturday I made breakfast, went to CVS and Michael's and the record store, got my hair cut, then went to the grocery store. I got catfish filets on sale and David made fried catfish for supper. I watched the 2 new-ish follow-up episodes of The Way Down and finished this teeny tiny cross stitch.
I think it's the smallest one I've ever done?
(Also I took a Delta 8 gummy and could not stop laughing at Gwen Shamblin's hair every time I looked up from my needlework to the screen. If you don't know what I mean, google her. Shamblin must have literally believed "the higher the hair, the closer to God".)
Sunday I made french toast and bacon for breakfast, and there was finally a new episode of Dateline (it was just because of summer and not the strike; it's journalism so it doesn't fall under either SAG-AFTRA or the WGA). I changed/washed the bed sheets, washed a load of towels, made lunch for the 'rents, and alternated the afternoon with baking and dinner prep and drinking wine and reading.
I finished Murder on the Orient Express and decided to re-read The Tin Roof Blowdown, which is James Lee Burke's Katrina novel and I think his best, although I haven't read all of the Dave Robicheaux novels. I've never bothered to read them in order, so that means his daughter might be a toddler in one of them and going off to college in the next one, or he's suddenly married to a different woman. It doesn't really matter; the details of Robicheaux's present life are never as important as the past ones (Vietnam, NOPD, alcoholism). Anyway, David's been re-reading the entire series and texting me whenever he comes across a particularly funny character name, which is why I decided to read the book again. And in literally the second paragraph, Burke drops these two amazing names: Nig Rosewater and Wee Willie Bimstine.
Men in the south have a tendency to insist on being known for their entire lives by idiotic nicknames they were given as children, and it's particularly prevalent in Louisiana. Every ballot I've ever voted on since I moved here has been full of First Name "Stupid Nickname" Last Name choices for everything below the level of governor. Breaux Bridge, a nearby town famous for its crawfish festival*, even used to have phone books that listed residents by nickname.
*It's overrated and I would recommend the one in Saint Bernard Parish instead.
For supper I'm still on the "enjoy cold dishes while it's still hot" thing, so I made Smitten Kitchen's double shallot (pickled and fried) egg salad, and chilled cucumber soup.
And dessert was the banana split bars from Baking Yesteryear.
I think it's the smallest one I've ever done?
(Also I took a Delta 8 gummy and could not stop laughing at Gwen Shamblin's hair every time I looked up from my needlework to the screen. If you don't know what I mean, google her. Shamblin must have literally believed "the higher the hair, the closer to God".)
Sunday I made french toast and bacon for breakfast, and there was finally a new episode of Dateline (it was just because of summer and not the strike; it's journalism so it doesn't fall under either SAG-AFTRA or the WGA). I changed/washed the bed sheets, washed a load of towels, made lunch for the 'rents, and alternated the afternoon with baking and dinner prep and drinking wine and reading.
I finished Murder on the Orient Express and decided to re-read The Tin Roof Blowdown, which is James Lee Burke's Katrina novel and I think his best, although I haven't read all of the Dave Robicheaux novels. I've never bothered to read them in order, so that means his daughter might be a toddler in one of them and going off to college in the next one, or he's suddenly married to a different woman. It doesn't really matter; the details of Robicheaux's present life are never as important as the past ones (Vietnam, NOPD, alcoholism). Anyway, David's been re-reading the entire series and texting me whenever he comes across a particularly funny character name, which is why I decided to read the book again. And in literally the second paragraph, Burke drops these two amazing names: Nig Rosewater and Wee Willie Bimstine.
Men in the south have a tendency to insist on being known for their entire lives by idiotic nicknames they were given as children, and it's particularly prevalent in Louisiana. Every ballot I've ever voted on since I moved here has been full of First Name "Stupid Nickname" Last Name choices for everything below the level of governor. Breaux Bridge, a nearby town famous for its crawfish festival*, even used to have phone books that listed residents by nickname.
*It's overrated and I would recommend the one in Saint Bernard Parish instead.
For supper I'm still on the "enjoy cold dishes while it's still hot" thing, so I made Smitten Kitchen's double shallot (pickled and fried) egg salad, and chilled cucumber soup.
And dessert was the banana split bars from Baking Yesteryear.