Life by Kindle Light

I was an English major in college, specializing in nothing particular, but rather enjoying it as the profs were fascinating.  Have you ever taken a course on Shakespeare taught from a Freudian viewpoint?  Enacted Chaucer in the dialect of the time?  Well, you get the idea.  But if the truth is told, I am truly a reader of modern trash more than classics, and I often wonder about my tastes.  It is only in the past few years that I have returned to more classical literature, admittedly in small doses, and of the early 1800s British variety.  This means Wuthering Heights and Jane Austen and Frankenstein.  The cruelty in Bronte’s book was stunning – I remember the hanging of the puppies, done out of boredom, with horror.  Shelley’s monster is heartbreaking.  And Austen?  She is fluff by comparison, with a lightness that is like a summer breeze that can roll into capricious bursts.

It is quite funny to read Pride and Prejudice on my Kindle.  A novel written with a quill and iron gall ink being read on an electronic device is quite a shift in time.

And then the electricity fails mid-afternoon.  Sewing is out of the question (though I could use the treadle or hand-crank sewing machines), as is baking (I wanted a coffee cake).  I went out to the side patio to listen to an audio book and comb out one of the dogs.

No electricity!

What do you do when it gets dark?  All the USB devices were down to their last jolts of current.  As light faded, I found my little section of town was dark, but two doors down the lamps were bright.  I had a flashlight or two, and I had candles.  Out came the candles, out came the Kindle, and on with Jane Austen, Darcy, and Miss Bennet!   Wandering around the house, I found my way with the light of my Kindle, not wanting to drip wax on the floor or carpet, much less myself.

When the esposo came home, it was pitch black.  We went out to dinner – who wants to scramble eggs using a flashlight to see by (or a candle) over a gas flame? Off to the other world to dine, and then return, once more, to our black hole.

And then to bed with the Kindles, to read Jane Austen and Terry Pratchett, to remember where the flashlights were, and hope there is electricity by dawn after a projection by the electric company that civilization would be restored by noon the next day.

And so it passed . . . the electricity returned in the middle of the night, the lights went on, the devices squawked, and the candles were, once more, obsolete.

 

Soup Night

I like cream soups more than I like brothy ones.  I also like to use items that are kind of not at their peak – not spoiled – but not really the best they could be.  However, I don’t think true cream soups – made with half and half, full-fat cream, etc., are the best for overall health.  So, I use my own methods.  Follows is a spinach soup, but you can use any vegetable you want in its place.  I even use lettuce that is not really perky, and it all comes out fine.  So, here you go!

Cream of Spinach (or Whatever) Soup

  • olive oil – 2-3 T.
  • 1/4-1/2 chopped onion
  • 6 oz. spinach
  • 3 c. chicken stock
  • Pepper, salt, garlic powder, nutmeg – or other flavors for seasoning
  • 1 c. unsweetened, plain almond milk
  • 1 c. Greek yogurt
  • Parmesan cheese, sour cream, full cream, or whatever you want for garnish

Saute onion in heated oil.  Add spinach and saute some more.  Pour in chicken broth and cover.  Cook until spinach is soft and wilted.  If you use other vegetables, you may need to simmer longer.  If you do, watch your pot and add more liquid if necessary!  Season with your choice of seasoning.  Remove to blender – or use immersion blender – and puree until very smooth.  Return to pot and stir in almond milk and yogurt.  Blend well.  Heat through.  Strain if you have bits of stuff you want to get rid of or just to be fancy and serve in bowl.  Garnish with garnish of your choice.

Serves 2-3.

Winter Aspens

I am really rather pleased with this gouache – haven’t done any since last year!  When I am painting in gouache, each one begins okay, with clear ideas in my head.  And then it gets really and truly hideous.  And then, it changes, almost by itself, and comes together in a way that watercolor doesn’t.  I don’t know how to describe it, but the process is quite magical – just like snowy woods in the late afternoon.