I think they are charming and funny. What busy lives these people had!
When husband was in the Navy, they pulled into Naples. He got the chance to go on a bus tour of Herculaneum. He found it very moving.
Also, interesting that they made kosher garum. I know it was made of fish, but somehow in my head I always picture ketchup.
Daughter and her friend took Hazel sledding. I mean, of course they got on the sleds and went down hill that way. Hazel ran along beside them barking in a celebratory manner. They came back wet and cold, clomping through the house dripping snow everywhere. Girls had ice encrusted hair and pink noses. Hazel had a sad expression because she had been bullied into her sweater. Her nose is black.
I had a bunch of beets in the house, and I baked them, and then made them into Borscht. Beets, onions, butter and cream. Soup. It was hot and very very pink. I also made brownies and a pork roast which nobody ate. The pork will not be wasted. We will have it tomorrow, or I will freeze it, and we will have it some day.
Husband had a job in Rockaway Beach today, and was outdoors almost all day. They are doing a mold survey on a building that was damaged by hurricane Sandy.
He was pretty cold and tired when he got home. At times like that, soup is easier to think about than huge hunks of meat.
Son said "This one was good, you know sometimes your experimental soups are-- unpredictable."
I cannot argue, but it is hardly an experimental soup. True I did not look in a book, but it is one of the great soups of the world. I was walking a well traveled road with it. And the color is so cheerful.
Anyway-- off to sleep now. Sleep well, all you. Stay warm.
Maybe it is better diet, maybe exposure to light, nobody is really sure. It has dropped several years in the past 100.
Looking at these old photos, I am struck by how young the kids look. Probably this group is pre-selected for poor diet, they do not appear to be children of the affluent. But if the ages are correct, they would look a lot more grown up today. What do you guys think? I am thinking that my age of sail, age of Marlowe kids may have looked kid-like longer than I am calibrated for.
There is one very strange study out there that says that a girl who lives in the same house with her biological father will have later onset menarche than a girl who does not. That is one of those weird findings you just want to poke at until the facts make sense, so strange.
Hazel went out today in her maroon sweater. That is the one that Nodbear says looks ecclesiastical. Hazel does not like the snow falling on her back, but getting her into the sweater is not easy. She makes a show of passive resistance. (In a dog her size the passive kind is the only acceptable resistance.) Like most animals, she hates to have her feet touched.
Lately I have been reading a lot of rather dry non-fiction. I had a book about the history of the idea of human rights. You would think that would be riveting-- but somehow it was dull. And other things like that too-- dull. I am sure it is me, not the books. Have been a little down this week. That tends to leach the color out of life. But last night I put The Dark is Rising on my Kindle. It is a Christmas story, after all. I am reading it slowly, with care, tasting the words as I go. They are delicious. It is so well written, just as riveting as it was when I was 10. And "kids" books seem to cost a little less in the Kindle store than fancy, so-called, adult books.
Quiet day today. I plan on reading, writing, tea...
Her mother was cooler than mine, younger too. My mother checked all the clothes she bought me for deep hems, that would stand to be let out, and she tugged every seam to see that it was not poorly sewn. She never let me buy my own shoes in peace, she went with me to make sure I chose something that would stand up to wear, and leave room to grow. She did not buy snacks, or sugary drinks, she was frugal by habit. And it embarrassed me.
One day the young son of this family was at the at the store at the same time as us.He was a nice boy, no malice in him, he had good manners, in a preoccupied teen kind of way. On this day he got some change back on something he bought, and we watched him take the pennies and nickels out. He threw them in the dirt and walked away. Leaving them behind.
My mother was spitting mad. "Never forget," she said, "Every coin is someone's work. Somebody somewhere worked for that money, and passed it on until it came to you. When you waste money, you are treating other people with disrespect. You are saying that their hard work has no meaning."
I am not sure I can be that mystical about money. Times have changed too, But This is sickening.
Title Comfort and Joy
Word Count 686
This is a Christmas offering for Perfect Duet. It is still early afternoon of the 8th for me. I am in time, barely. This is a kind of AU where Mr Hollum does not die. I like Mr Hollum. None of us are the men or women we hope to be all the time. I think last year I wrote about him too. This is the same world as last year's 'Mr Hollum's Christmas.'
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The bells of morning had come with sleet from the North, and a wordless teeth bared struggle with sail and wind.