The Trump Victory Tour a.k.a. Thanksgiving

Every place I visit in the next few days, it's quite likely there will be Trump voters present.

Yesterday I drove for 6 and a half hours at a top speed of 30 miles per hour.

Today traffic moved faster. The desert glittered with years of litter.  A couple of the roadsigns were pocked with bullet holes.

I hope Thanksgiving dinner is utterly and completely delicious.

Dinner and Dancing

My mom's favorite vegetable is carrots. The last time I served these red ones, she loved them. I wasn't sure if she'd love them tonight or not. Beloved foods fall by the wayside now and then. Last night she picked every last seed out of her tomatoes (which I'd skinned.) And the little "beans" inside the green beans, she removed too.

I'm happy to say that tonight's veggies were a success. And it appears that salmon is still on her list of edible foods too. I do feel though that anything can be bumped from the list at any moment. Bacon is gone as are Rice Krispies and most soups. In a way it makes cooking easier. She really loves sandwiches and pizza right now.

As for me, I'm going dancing. And post dancing, there'll be a Skype session with the man from Indiana. Still the leash feels short this evening. There's been non-stop moaning for two days, but when I ask if she needs a pain pill or a hot pack, the answer is no. The moaning is unconscious. If I tell her she's moaning, which I don't like to harp on, she says she doesn't know she's doing it. If I timed it, roughly every 3 seconds, she makes a sound. There are three or four sorts of moans in her repertoire. One sounds like pain, another like disgust--kind of an abbreviated "Bah!" as in Bah Humbug, the others sound like little satisfied sounds or maybe like she's surprised. Two days of it non stop. Did I mention that? Maybe I'll keep mentioning it over and over again, okay?

Or maybe I'll just go waltz and rhumba and cha-cha for a couple hours. If my mom could still dance, that would probably help her too.

What I Cooked, part II

Collard Greens Salad with Quinoa, Strawberries, Walnuts, and Avocado

My friend Paula is game. She likes to eat. She likes to travel. She's not afraid to change things up. I might not have made this salad without her here, and I certainly would not have made my own tahini for the tahini based salad dressing....but I did. One peek at the salad dressing labels at Vons with their to the moon sodium content and roster of weird ingredients sent us to the Asian food aisle where I bought a jar of sesame seeds instead. After a little dabbling, the concoction  transformed from paste into dressing. 

But the cutting of the collard greens was the most entertaining part. Remove the center stem, the instructions commanded, then stack the leaves, roll them up like a cigar, and slice them into narrow ribbons. The result was beautiful. 

We also had a radish and cilantro salad in a citrus dressing.

And ceviche from the local fish place.

We lingered at the table, and I am grateful for that.

The wind has been blowing manically since yesterday afternoon, non-stop. Having a houseguest has keep me from retreating to my bed and pulling the covers up over my head.

And so it begins....

Things are a tad bit less festive than they look.

C  picked up a stomach bug and passed it to her dear husband.

My mother may be on her way to another skin infection.

Someone (not THESomeone) dear to me has had a lung biopsy this day before we give thanks.

But the apple crisp is in the oven. When it comes out, the pumpkin pies will go in.

The world keeps going 'round and 'round. Pumpkin custard will be eaten as dessert after our traditional Thanksgiving Eve pizza. Things are messy.

But all is well....enough.Blessings upon all our houses.

Thank you for the birthday wishes on Facebook, by text, by phone, by email, by blog comment, in person, by telepathy, etc.

The day began with flowers. I was in the kitchen, first sip of my latté barely swallowed when M came in the door. The result was this.

And  breakfast was made--(not by me) eggs with chorizo and avocado and onions and toasted tortilla strips.

Then came the farmer's market where this happened.

And there was cake baking (not by me!!!) that started like this.

And there was a feast prepared (not by me!!!) Grilled shrimp, grilled asparagus, rice so embellished I'm not sure how to describe it.
And the serving of the most succulent gluten free carrot cake ever in the history of the world.

And afterwards, a duet sung by the daughters for which everyone was require to surrender their devices. ( M sang the Tom Wopat tenor while C sang the Bernadette Peters soprano from "Annie Get Your Gun.")

And utter loveliness ( I did have a bit of something to do with that.)

There was a quite literal ache (in a good way) in my heart all day.

Thank you.

In which I circle round and round chasing my tail

Yesterday I bought a bathrobe for which I stood in line for 30 minutes at Macy's. Big sale. Today I took it back so they could remove the security tag. "I'm back," I said to no one in particular when the security system began whooping as I walked in the door.

I went to Vons twice today. Pre-Thanksgiving shopping. Then to pick up one of my mom's prescriptions. This evening she tells me she's out of gin.

Took my car to the car wash. Guess what? It rained.

Got the postcard excusing me from jury duty because I take care of my mom....and she got her summons.

And still no answer from the Someone regarding the conditions of our mediation that have not been fulfilled.

With all of the family fun coming up, I decided to splurge on another kayak. REI is filled to the brim with parkas. Kayaks are out of season. There are car-top carriers where the kayaks used to be.

Ah, well, C and her husband are arriving this evening. I have champagne. I have pumpkins that will be turned into pies, and while they await their fate, they give the kitchen a nice orange glow. I have a pot of soup on. I have everything. I do.

Grief/Joy Syndrome

If there is such a thing as grief/joy syndrome, we have it bad here in Margaritaville. My mom told me at least half-a-dozen times how delicious dinner was last night. I baked a delicata squash, poached a piece of salmon in my usual manner--in dry vermouth, seasoned with dill, and dabbed with butter (my aunt's recipe,) and steamed a bag of Trader Joes's super greens with absolutely nothing to jazz them up. My mom ate like she was thrilled to be alive, and I have to say I'm taking particular delight in the end of season yellow plums from the farmer's market. Each and every one tastes like the best plum ever. Saturday's left over black bean and sweet potato soup might have been the most delicious breakfast I've ever consumed, and the water and the sky here are a blue beyond reproach right now. There are butterflies and dragon flies on the beach and on our patio, and they are an orange so bright I expect they might combust spontaneously. This year's pelicans dive into the ocean ever so much more dramatically than last year's, and the sand has gone from, well, sand-colored to almost white. We are drunk on life here in Margaritaville.

We Gathered

And, of course, there was food, friends, and family.

And now that we live in Margaritaville, we inaugurated a new tradition of a Thanksgiving eve sunset trip to the beach before the longstanding practice of a super-easy dinner (pizza this year) followed by pumpkin custard.

But with the cranberry sauce already gone, my head is still digesting the conversation. There were plenty of things discussed. Family secrets, the landing of Curiosity on Mars. Classic movies, current movies, and James Bond movies. I think there was a weird joke or two about the Kardashians. And a long discussion of education in America, of the 60s assassinations, election fraud, and just about everything to do with the outcome of the recent election.

I had to do a little research this afternoon just to satisfy my whetted appetite. Here are some leftovers to chew on from The Atlantic Wire. Of course, maybe you already know all this--but I'll bet you're on your third piece of pumpkin pie right about now, so have some more of this, too. And there's more if you follow the link above. More! More pie! More!

Obama got 93 percent of black voters (representing 13 percent of the electorate), 71 percent of Latinos (representing 10 percent), and 60 percent of young voters. Thanks to the GOP's rape apologist caucus among other generally bad for women things, he also not too surprisingly won the female vote, getting 53 percent of women voters. But, other generalized groups of people went for the president that we wouldn't necessarily have expected to go for Obama.

I'm feeling so thankful that maybe I'll have an inauguration day party. I wonder if my friend Ellen could bring her fabulous wine jello and dye it blue.

Life is a Basketball Game Or Apologies to the lovely Joshua tree and The San Bernardino National Forest

As M and I loaded my mother's stuff into the car at the hotel in Las Vegas yesterday, M said she felt like we'd made it to the top of the 4th quarter. I said, "Yeah, I think we're up by 15 points." But my mother had to take her Lasix pill because her feet were swelling. Lasix went about its business then of ridding my mom's body of extra fluid. After the 3rd stop to pee, M and I concluded that our lead had eroded. After I freaked out about having to exit for a fourth time rather suddenly through two lanes of trucks on a precipitous slope, I said we were down by two.

The I-15 between Las Vegas and L.A. is my least favorite stretch of road in the universe. Even the pristine parts, where it seems that herds of camels might appear at any moment, are set against a background of smog. But we made it through this infernal inferno, weaving through lanes of chugging trucks and BMW-driving maniacs. When I pulled into the driveway at my new house, M flung open her door and yelled,"I can smell the ocean!" Aaahh.

We crossed no rivers yesterday. Just two cracked gouges in the dry earth labeled, "Sheep Ditch" and "Case Ditch."

Last night's dinner menu: seared ahi tuna, sweet potatoes, tossed green salad. Little squares of white chocolate with blueberry bits served as dessert.

Beverages: red wine, margaritas, and martinis.

Basketball score update: Game over. Our teams wins by 30.

My favorite part of the day? When I had to almost immediately hop back into the car to pick the Man Who Loves Me up at the train station.

My second favorite part of the evening: Listening to M and the MWLM discuss the prospects for a hot new Laker season.

We're home, everyone. Come visit.

Hometown Chow

Yes, there really is sauerkraut on my pizza.

It was delicious.

Thanks for the Love

I've eaten nothing but pizza for more than 24 hours. Prior to the pizza binge I consumed mostly  coconut cake. But what's really sustaining me is family, friends, and you, dear readers.  I have been lavished with well wishes, reaped the benefits of your physical labors, baked for, and served a fabulous breakfast the morning that the movers arrived (my only nutritious meal in recent memory.)

I'm lying in bed with the heating pad on my back as I type this post, but  I feel drenched in sweetness.

Thank you.

Friday & Food

The man who loves me just called to tell me bought some wild salmon at a local farmer's market. That ought to get us out of the salad rut. Of course, I'll make a salad anyway, but it will have a supporting role for a change instead of sitting center stage. I've been serving salad for dinner every night for months--which is not to say that it's always the same. I have a number of ingredients in my repertoire. Avocados, tomatoes, pine nuts, other nuts and seeds, roasted peppers, any number of vegetables--raw or cooked, apples, tangerines, berries of all kinds, cranberries and other dried fruit. Even so, C. has rebelled. She goes out now for In 'N Out or something. I love salad--the way I do it with super fresh organic mixed greens. Arugula is one of the most amazing flavors on the planet. To me it tastes like greens crossbred with pepper and peanut butter.

And speaking of food, here are a couple of food blogs for your weekend enjoyment:
1) Wild, Fresh + Tasty (where, if you read the post that features MADE, the coffee/gift shop at the Downtown Women's Center, you will see a photo of me working the counter in my barista hat.
2) How To Eat I have the good fortune to know Elizabeth personally, and when my divorce is completely over, she's going to bake me a cake. Now that's something to hope for!

Now for a Los Angeles food scene trivia question:
At which cafe are you likely to come upon a patio table with a pile of poop on it? 

ɯnʇǝɹoqɹɐ ʎʇunoɔ sǝlǝƃuɐ sol ǝɥʇ ʇɐ ǝɟɐɔ ʞɔoɔɐǝd ǝɥʇ

The name of the place says it all.

The image used in this post is a painting by an 18th century painter named Luis Melendez.