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Wednesday, January 14, 2026

Cooking

One of the best (or maybe only good) things about really cold weather is the dishes I can and should make. As a hard-core environmentalist, maybe now called a survivalist or a sustainability supporter, for 50 years, I don’t use the oven when it’s really hot. I look for overcast days to make something early on that I can eat later. But as it gets cooler, I really lean into the baking, bread for myself and my adult daughter and her family, cookies so I can supply everyone I see with a variety, and oven-cooked meals that I’ve been missing all summer. The grill should be a mainstay, but somehow, it seems like too much trouble. And somebody has to stand out in the heat. Sometimes, it’s just starting to be cool and I’ll cook with the windows open, so as not to heat up the house for later. When it gets really cold, I make sure to open and close the blinds in keeping with the sun’s whims, never opening the north side unless it’s very mild. I love a fire in the fireplace, but it doesn’t make sense if it’s too cold, because the heat from the rest of the house goes up the chimney, so I save it for the milder cold and gray days. But I digress…pot roast! Is the number one thing I cook in winter, and it doesn’t even use the oven. It is the simplest recipe, the way my mother made it (as I remember it). Buy a relatively cheap roast--they are often on sale, and usually labeled pot roast--although there are several options. Sear it in the big pot, salt and pepper generously, then add water, or even stock, to cover. After a few hours, add some cut-up carrots and potatoes and cook another hour or so. There are Italian pot roasts with canned tomatoes, and once I added some thyme. Somebody in my family is allergic to onions (isn’t that insanely unfair, how can I cook for her without using onions or garlic?), but I think you could add them too. Meatloaf with baked potatoes is my husband’s favorite—also something my mother made, without really consulting a recipe, throwing things into a pound or two of ground beef and mixing it with her hands. There are gazillions of great sheet-pan dinners at NYT cooking as well. You could roast a chicken, but DH is persnickety about the tendons, etc., on the bones, and there are only two of us now, so we usually buy boneless skinless parts. I will often have soup in the fridge, so good with a grilled-cheese sandwich, sometimes incorporating the turkey stock or leftover meat from my oversized Thanksgiving turkey. I’m not a vegetarian anymore, but we eat a lot of meatless meals or a small amount of meat with other good stuff. This week, I made apple cake, something else my Mom would make as a treat when we came to visit. PS Charlie enjoyed tumbling a lot more this week.

Wednesday, January 7, 2026

Grammie was excited about taking Charlie back to tiny tots tumbling. He was always climbing things he shouldn't, and loved to roughhouse. They had gone for a few weeks in the Fall, but stopped because Grammie and Grampa were traveling. Now he was 18 months old, he would probably love it. Instead of moving the carseat, Grammie just parked her car and got into Mama and Dada's car. Dada brought Charlie and his diaper bag out and strapped him in. Charlie was coughing a lot and Grammie wondered if they should not have sent him. He was also fussy in the car seat, but that was often the case. There was roadwork near the gymnastics studio and Grammie missed the turn. Charlie was crying now, even though Grammie explained that she was having a little trouble because of the people working on the road. As she pulled into the parking lot and got him out of the seat as fast as she could, with her purse, locking the car. Once she set him down to walk on the snowy sidewalk, he calmed down, looking around. She thought he was probably recognizing the place. Inside, they walked to the classroom and took off their coats and shoes. They went inside with the other children and their adults, mostly Moms and one other grandmother. Miss Maddie seemed happy to see them. "Hi, Charlie!" she said cheerfully. The children sat with their adults as class started with them taking turns jumping on the bouncy floor. "your turn, Charlie," said Miss Maddie. "Jump Charlie jump," they sang and clapped their hands. Grammie stood Charlie up on the floor and started helping him bounce. His eyes filled with tears that spilled over down his cheeks, and his little face took on an expression she had never seen. Was Charlie afraid, shy? What had happened to him? She held him close while the others took their turns. Miss Maddie demonstrated the obstacle course, things to climb over and roll down, hula hoops laid out to step through, more bouncing and climbing. Charlie just stood and stared, even as Grammie lay down and rolled down the slanted mat. She carried him over to a stack of mats and they watched the others. Every now and then she would ask, "do you want to go over there, Charlie? Do you want to join the others?" "No," he said clearly and firmly in the saddest little voice. He had only learned to say no a few weeks ago, but he definitely meant it. "Oh, dear," she thought, "Maybe he will never like gymnastics now, I'm afraid this was a mistake." When the class moved over to the open floor and Miss Maddie brought the parachute, Grammie joined in, holding one of the handles and singing along, but Charlie just stood and watched sadly. They walked on the balance beams laid out in a circle. "Do you want to go over there?" Grammie said. "No," said Charlie again. The group moved to the bars and the rings. Grammie carried Charlie over and he climbed up on something that looked like a giant mushroom. After a bit, he went over to the rings and reached up. His little fingers curled around them, but he didn't really hold on, so Grammie didn't let go of him. Then they all went to sit by the teacher and she blew bubbles at them, before saying goodbye to each one and giving them a sticker. They left the classroom and put their shoes and coats back on. Charlie looked in at the floor and the mats and apparatus, but it was time for them to go. Back in the car, he started crying again before they got to Grammie's house, even though she talked to him and sang and told him Grampa would be there. He seemed better in the house and fell asleep eventually, but he only slept for about half an hour. He woke up crying and even Mama couldn't get him to calm down or go back to sleep. She texted Dada and called him and soon he arrived with some baby Tylenol that Grammie and Grandpa didn't have at their house. After a little while, he stopped crying. Grammie built a fire in the fireplace, which he liked. "Hot," he said over and over, holding his hands up in front of him. He played with some of his toys and some of the things at Grammie's house that weren't toys, like his favorite yellow colander that he put on his head and said, "hat." Every now and then, he came back to the fireplace. He liked when Grammie let him hold on while she used the poker and the bellows. She had to remind him a few times to stay back, off the hearth, keeping his feet on the floor. The next day, he seemed much better and had a good appetite, so he went to school (day care).