June 13

My days are similar. None is exactly the same, but they usually have certain elements. 

On weekdays, Ray and I wake up early. Sometimes I get up first, more often he does. These days, it is light by 6:30, even when it’s overcast. I like waking up to the light. We don’t use an alarm clock, except if we have to catch a plane or something. 

I spend the first hour or so of the day reading e-mail and doing other computer stuff. I read recently that is not good, because you are letting other people dictate how you spend your time. On the other hand, I like to stumble out to the computer, half awake, just as some people used to read the paper and drink coffee to start their day. Some days, I get bored and ready to do something else in less than an hour. Other days, I could sit for three hours. 

I put in my contacts somewhere about now. At the same time, or later, I pull on some clothes lying around from yesterday, usually jeans and a t-shirt. I saunter downstairs and start the process of getting breakfast. It is not hard. I slice some homemade bread and put it in the toaster oven, turning the dial without really looking at it. It comes out right, not burned, but toasted. I get out the yogurt, mine and his. He likes nonfat plain. I prefer low fat vanilla. If I run out, I can eat his, but I usually add some honey. It doesn’t mix in that well and never tastes right to me. 

I get out the measuring cup, usually 1/4 cup, the yellow plastic one, on top of a stack of them in the first drawer on the right. I scoop two scoops of yogurt and put it in the striped bowl. I don’t worry about getting all the yogurt. I set the scoop on the top to the yogurt container, knowing Ray will use it after me, put my yogurt away, and clean out the scoop thoroughly. 

I help myself to a pear from the fruit bowl (or sometimes another kind of fruit). It was a wedding present from Uncle Paul 32 years ago. It was a good gift, useful and attractive and durable. I peel off the sticker, open the trash drawer, and stick it on the inside of the trash bag. I rinse the pear under the faucet in the sink. Every step of the way, I could be admiring all my wonderful kitchen features—I remember ordering the sink and faucet from Ikea, for instance. I picked out the cabinets. 

I select a sharp knife from the block on the counter…they are all familiar and good ones. Some were chosen for me by my daughter, who worked in a kitchen while she was in college. She couldn’t stand my dull old knives when she came home, and we found them at a garage sale! 

If the pear is perfectly ripe, as they have been the last few days, it cuts up beautifully, dripping a little. I hold it over the bowl, so as not to lose any juice. I put the innards in my husband’s bowl. He hates waste even more than I do, and will eat all the good parts right up to the core before composting a very small amount. I cut the pear into quarters and then each quarter into four or more pieces, letting them fall into the yogurt. I add a shake of cinnamon from the container on the lazy Susan. It’s one of my mother’s, although the cinnamon has been replaced many times. Today we used it up and got some more from the pantry. Ray carefully poured it into the little jar. I am very bad at those kinds of tasks that require fine motor control and care. I often make a mess on the counter, and we don’t want to waste any cinnamon, do we? I put the empty plastic bag near my purse on the other side of the counter. It will remind me to get more at the natural foods store. It is cheaper there and I won’t have to use a new container. I can just refill that bag, at least a few times. 

I get out the spoons and a table knife. The peanut butter stays on the table now, since we use it every morning, at least as often as salt and pepper. I put the toast on a small plate and carry it over, along with the bowl of yogurt and fruit. I make sure my book of Sudoku is by my place, with a pencil. I sit down and take a bite of yogurt. It tastes so good, the first food of the day. I spread peanut butter on my toast, and then I alternate bites of yogurt with bites of toast. After a bite or two, I start working on the sudoku puzzle. I have worked through this book for more than a year and am now in the section labeled, “Tough Puzzles.” I have done several successfully, but they may take more than one day. Today I did not finish the one I was working on before I got up from the breakfast table. 

Ray went upstairs. I thought he was getting ready to go for a walk. I started working on dinner, a spinach and mushroom frittata. I had looked for something that I could make ahead, since we aren’t using the stove between 2 and 7, because of our special electric rate. 

I got out some of the ingredients, cut up an onion and minced three cloves of garlic, putting the peels in the compost bin. I sautéed them in a little olive oil in the big nonstick frying pan. I put away some of the clean dishes Ray had washed the night before while I was waiting. I got the bag of spinach out of the fridge. He called down, “I guess I won’t be walking today. I’m just going to take my shower.” “Darn,” I said, “we’ll have to start getting going earlier.” “Yes,” he agreed. “I’m sorry.”

When the sautéed vegetables (with thyme) were almost ready, I turned the pan off. I stirred them around a bit. I put on some outdoor shoes, fed the dog, and grabbed the net bag I pick produce into. I let the chickens out of their coops and into the run, noting to myself again that they have cleared it completely and we need to do something to give them access to more green grass. I have tried letting them out a few times, but they don’t seem to know enough to come back and it’s pretty stressful. I watch them very closely; I’m not sure they know about hawks and other dangers. 

Anoles mating

Ray headed out and I picked blueberries. It was wet from the rain the night before, but pleasantly cool before 9. My Dad arrived while I was out picking. He picked some beans and studied everything. He helped me move the chicken “tractor” to a grassy place (with the 5 young chickens in it). We went inside and I helped him with his computer and he made a few phone calls. Meanwhile, I kept on with my cooking, cooking the spinach (just barely, no added water), and adding it with the sauté to beaten eggs, and putting the whole thing back in the pan with more oil. It’s all set and can be eaten at room temperature (so I don’t have to violate the electricity ban). I started working on a vegetable side dish—a la Grecque. I remember my Mom making vegetables a la Grecque, but this recipe called for boiling them in a mix of water and wine. I’m kind of funny about cooking with wine—I hate to waste it. a little for flavor I don’t mind, but 2 cups of white wine seemed excessive. I asked my Dad and he didn’t remember our recipe involving cooking—just dress the cooked vegetables with the typical olive oil, etc.

After he left, I abandoned the cooking for the moment. The frittata was the critical thing and it was set. I headed for the computer, my precious alone time. (You’d think I would find something better to do than describe my day in detail). I plugged away for a while, until the phone rang at noon. 

My neighbor, Liz, calls every day about this time. She is coming to take my dog for a walk. She says he is a good influence on her dogs. I think she feels like I neglect him by not walking him enough. Some days he gets 5 or 6 miles with Ray and me, plus about the same with Liz, I think. I consider a mile a long walk…but Cameron is always ready to go. I went downstairs and let him out and wondered how long it would be before Ray came home. 

Cameron is afraid of thunder

Amelia's recipe for chocolate chip cookies

I am not very good at postponing meals and was pretty hungry. I had a cookie to tide me over and looked for some more recipes for Vegetables a la Grecque. I found my Mom’s, but it was as Daddy said, not the kind where you cook them in marinade. There were several on the internet. Most use wine, but in smaller quantities, so I poured 2 cups of water, some vinegar and some white wine in a pot, with a tea ball with pepper, tarragon, rosemary, and some other herbs. By the time it had boiled a little, I had a potato peeled and cut up and ready to cook in it. I prepped some beans and some yellow squash to add when it was done. Still no Ray, but Liz came back from the walk and we chatted a bit. I hate standing and talking, but if I invite her to sit, she usually says she has to leave. 

So… cooking, gardening, chatting with my Dad and Liz…is it a good life? There is certainly much to be grateful for in it. Plenty of good food, beautiful, luxurious surroundings…dogs and chickens…but still, maybe not what I would have described as my ideal…? Not productive enough?