Saturday, July 25, 2015

Where the Fork is the Cheesecloth? - Iced Coffee, Arroz Rojo con Chorizo, Sprightly Stuffed Artichokes

I'm already in a bad mood.  I should say I am still in a bad mood.  I hurt, damn it.  Here I am on the precipice of retirement, looking forward to 30 years of daily pain.  Hey, it's all been worth it to reach this point! Those two hour trips on the Long Island Railroad, working two jobs, 3 1/2 years in law school, the school loan we got paid off just in time to pay Cory's college tuition, 15 years in the service of the State, working weekends, no overtime, no raises, saving children's lives with no recognition from the public or the Bench that we had done something remarkable under difficult conditions - priceless.

Fibromyalgia is not always an invisible disease

Yes, I am bitter. I am in chronic pain, I am facing impoverishment, and I can't remember the good times because my brain is befogged, and there weren't really any good times to remember.  I worked my used-to-be-enormous ass off my whole life, gave everything I had to give, and got a lot of grief or it. (Thank you very much, what have you done for me lately?)

In my next life I am going to skip all that school shit, and become a plumber, like Josephine.  Using my intellect, such as it is, got me where I am today.  Nowhere.

Got my last paycheck today. Happy happy joy joy.

Screw this. Let's talk about iced coffee.  I love iced coffee. I finally pulled my act together sufficiently to cold-brew a batch, following the Pioneer Woman's  recipe.  Really good, even without the sweetened condensed milk (I am a Sweet & Low kind of gal, and that is not likely to change).  So I've been drinking it all day, practically for free.  Would have cost me $13 in Starbucks so I'm feeling good about that.

Oops, I did it again.  Couldn't sleep, although the pain was bearable after I took some Ibuprofen PM. Decided I wanted a little pickled herring, so I headed downstairs, where I had a brand new cast iron skillet winking at me, calling me to light its fire.  Well, I can't resist that siren song, even after midnight, so I prepared some rice to go with the Midnight Tamales, and I almost ate the whole pan by myself. Okay, maybe I exaggerate just a tad. But really, the flavors I chose came together in a lovely, gently-burn-your-mouth sort of way.  If I enjoyed it, it can't be too hot.

Finally, due to circumstances beyond my control, I was sticking very close to home - actually, to my kitchen.  Work was being done inside and outside, and I needed to be attentive.  It was all good stuff, like pictures being hung (yeah, I know we've been here a year.  I've been busy).  While sorting through needlepoints and prints and deciding where they should go, I worked on my recipe for stuffed artichokes, and they were frankly delicious.

Seeing the pictures on the wall gave me a warm fuzzy that I hadn't had for a long time.  I had forgotten some of the framed prints we had bought over the years on cruise ships, and it was sort of like Christmas in July to rediscover them.  Still have more to do, but still have lots of wall space.

Oh, those recipes?  Maybe tomorrow; there's always time enough for food.

No comments:

Post a Comment