Picture Sunday

Hello to all, and welcome the recently absented but now back and badder than ever Picture Sunday.

Well, I just got finished cleaning my kitchen. See, Mr M was down today. He said yesterday, "I'll just come to your house. Can we have meat loaf?" And of course, I said yes, and asked if he'd prefer mashed potatoes or a vegetable, and he said, "Both." And of course again, I was glad to oblige, because, well, I figure if a person wants a home-cooked meal from me, then he must be a man in some dire straits gastronomically.

And yes, I did eat way more meat loaf than I should have, but I'm trying to forget about that, and I just finished cleaning up all the dishes and mopping the floor. And now I'm here to attend to my other little buds, the ones who like pictures once a week.

Since I found myself without a trip to make yesterday, and it was snowy, cold, and extremely windy and nasty out, I stayed in the whole blessed blissful day. One of the things I set my mind to doing was to finish sharpening my big colored pencil set, the one I got for Christmas and began sharpening on New Year's Eve. I finally finished, then of course I had to try them all out. So I decided to make a big 120-square doodle in which I could use each color. And it looks just a little something like this....



Now, there's a great set of colored pencils at work.

You know, I have a funny kind of thing going on in my backyard. Well, it's funny to me, anyway.

When I moved into the Poderosa lo those many years ago, I had, in my backyard, a clothesline. I never used it, I hate the feel of fresh-air-dried clothing, and so it languished there, a lonely monument to a different time.

This past summer when Mowing Dad was mowing one day, he came to my door - he actually knocked, unlike his son Mowing Boy - and asked if he could do something. He asked if he could cut the wires on the clothesline for some reason (maybe his head kept getting tangled up in them, I don't remember - he is quite tall), and since I don't use it and never will, I said, "Sure." And so he did.

But now, every time I go to my kitchen sink and look out my window, I see the two poles there, not connected by wires, just two wooden crosses facing each other in a menacing manner. "Damn, those crosses look like they're ready to have a duel. Ten paces apart and they've just faced each other for the big showdown." So I thought I'd let you look.



I keep wondering what these crosses might have against each other to make them settle their differences with a duel, and the only thing I can come up with is rather distasteful and sacreligious, so I'll just keep it to myself. Oh, hell, no I won't. "I get to hold Jesus!" "No, I get to hold Jesus!" "That settles it, ten paces with pistols - draw!"

Or maybe not. Maybe they've never liked each other. Maybe they've been waiting for the day each was untethered from the other so they could fight to the death.

Anyway, how about a recipe du jour? Well, how about something of a non-recipe du jour. Because, yes, it's time for another series cover card. The big Series 5, With Helpful Guides card.



Well. That's a hunk o' meat. And oddly enough, the back of The Card is all about - how we tend to eat too much meat! Except, of course, men and teenagers, who the recipe people seem to think it's OK to have eating meat like Henry VIII, the big hairy king.

There are a couple of things that I like about this feast. First of all, didn't they take such care and concern to make the taters all pretty by shaving off the middles of their peels. They look like they're wearing halter tops and hip-huggers. And secondly, who the hell cooks cherry tomatoes. I mean, those are cherry tomatoes, aren't they, and they look right charred. Oh, I think that's succotash in the upper right hand corner. It must be a special, special occasion.

Happy week.

Betland's Olympic Update:
* I'm listening to my Christmas present from Stennie, the soundtrack to "8 ½." It's so wonderful that at any moment I expect to see Marcello emerging from my living room and walking into the dennette in a towel, with his whip and little hat. I'm expecting that; something tells me it isn't going to happen....