the day went well, I did not lose my temper or make my back worse. The rhubarb pie was excellent and well-received by the intended audience, my husband and son-in-law. I also loved it. Molli had a brownie, thawed from the freezer, warm with vanilla ice cream, so she was happy. The weather was sunny and hot. We sat in the yard and I admired the vegetables we planted. My Dad told stories about Nova Scotia. I had my suit on to go swimming, but Molli did not want to go, which was fine. It was probably crowded and hot.
Let me tell you about the pie and the lessons of growing older. The recipe I chose from the New York Times called for a crust made with lard. Years ago, I had access to some lard and it made some very good pie crusts. At the moment, I have some lard in my fridge that I got from the coop a while back. I think it keeps indefinitely. I followed the instructions and cut it up into the flour. I had my doubts. It did not seem to be behaving the way I wanted a pie crust to behave. I set it aside and started over with butter. I had a delicious flaky pie crust and convinced myself it was okay to waste that dough. You do not always have to do it the hard way, the "right" way. It's okay to give a little lard to the dog instead of using it for a special pie, rather than be angry and disappointed.
My boss, sadly, called to say he was in the hospital with blood clots in his lungs. He sounded terrible, although he was, as usual, upbeat. They caught it in time, he said. They're just keeping him overnight for observation. I hope so.
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