There's a paradox about cooking in the summer. I don't want to heat up the kitchen, so it would be good to grill outside. But it's really hot and standing over the grill cooking makes people miserable. So I think I will cook the chicken indoors after all. Just briefly, on top of the stove, with some vegetables and serve with couscous. Couscous cooks with boiling water, so doesn't add much to the heat in the kitchen. Sometimes, when it was hot, we might walk to the beach and swim. Now we have to drive (sad face). Even worse, the beaches have high bacteria counts so we can't swim anyway. I think maybe we'll drive a little further today to swim.

Too hot to cook: Pasta Salad for supper

Today's main ingredient is corn. We were lucky enough to get some early corn on the cob Thursday and somehow didn't get to cook it until Sunday. It was still delicious, surprisingly. I try to cook it the minute I get home but life interfered with my best-laid plans. I also have some leftover pasta. A recipe called for 12 ounces of pasta, which is dumb. I would rather have 4 oz of leftover cooked pasta than raw, so we cooked it all and reserved some. Fortunately, I have a favorite recipe for Mexican Pasta Salad (thank you once again, Moosewood!). It is even low-fat! It calls for a can of cooked beans--kidney, pinto or black. I usually have a can of beans around, although I did use the black beans a couple weeks ago. When I can, though, I prefer to cook my own, especially if I can do it early while it's not hot out. So, I have some pintos simmering on the stove that will be one and cooled before I need them. There is corn, a yellow pepper, some fresh tomatoes, and scallions--everything I need. I'll chop up some veggies soon and mix the dressing, so it will be nicely marinated before we are ready to eat it tonight. Meanwhile, I am thinking ahead to a quiche I'll make Friday--do I need to buy some Gruyere? We picked up a cantaloupe yesterday, which is really nice with blueberries, coming into peak season now.

What type are you?

Some people like to take on a job and stick with it until it's done. Sometimes that keeps them from ever starting... I prefer to break tasks into manageable bits. I like to cook, but I don't always want to get started. I'm sure you've been there, all of a sudden it's late (5 or 6 or 7) and you're hungry. Maybe other people are hungry too, but they would not ever plan ahead to make sure there is something to eat when they're hungry. Anyway, I usually know what I'll eat when I get up: cereal and milk with fruit, or yogurt and fruit and toast and peanut butter or a bagel with cream cheese. At least one of those options is almost always around. I could make an egg and bacon, but that doesn't usually appeal. Lunch is often leftovers, but there should be bread and cheese and maybe sliced luncheon meat--or a can of tuna if need be. And there are usually some marginally healthy snacks in the pantry if I need something in between times. Dinner is what I mean when I talk about cooking. I love to bake bread or cookies when the weather is oooler and I have the time and energy. But the evening meal (call it supper if you prefer) is the one that takes the most planning and usually preparation. Ideally, I know what that's going to be when I get up in the morning because I've been thinking about it the day before. If not, that's the first order of business, even before getting dressed or eating breakfast. What's the weather forecast look like? How many people will be eating? What's in the fridge? I usually plan around the ingredient that most urgently needs to be eaten. Today it is zucchini, but it is often meat--chicken I bought or thawed the day before, for instance. Today it's hot, so probably not anything that uses the oven, and preferably not a lot of time on the stove. Can it be made ahead, while it's cooler? I decided on a frittata for tonight. I have plenty of eggs and will use up some of the zucchini. I got some chard in my box Thursday and I have a half a green pepper left over from something earlier in the week. Is that pan I like clean? To avoid any last-minute problems and to do the work in small chunks, I check the recipe and make sure I have the ingredients. Maybe I can make it without the marjoram, but if I was out of eggs, I would have to make a different plan. Looking at the list, one of the first things I need is a small minced onion. I can do that. And mince a small clove of garlic and cut up the pepper. I put the olive oil in the pan. Now I've got a good start and I'm committed. I can take a break and do some sitting down "work" or read the paper. Sometime in the next hour or so, I'll be ready to wash and slice the mushrooms and zucchini. I'll get the eggs out so they come to room temperature. And when it's time to eat, I'll have about 10 or 15 minutes of work left to do. Sometimes I make a bigger dish, like lasagna, or rice salad, and then I have it for several meals, in case I'm busy or the weather is not conducive to cooking. Lasagna is one of many options that can be frozen in meal-size portions to keep a little longer. You know the drill, keep track of what you have in the freezer.

the closet monster

Michael's closet had a door in the back. There was another closet behind the door. It was spooky, there were no walls, just boards and the same on the ceiling. Daddy said it was like an attic. It was a place to put things you didn't use very much, like Christmas decorations or suitcases. Michael didn't live at Daddy's house all the time. He used to always live at Mommy's house and now he went back and forth. It was a little hard to get used to. At first, he woke up in the night and called for Mommy before he remembered he was at Daddy's house. He had a bunk bed here and lots of favorite animals to keep him company. Now that he was older, he didn't even call for Daddy anymore. He had Alexis, who would read to him if he woke up early. At 7, he could wake up Daddy and Molli. Molli was Daddy's new wife. It was strange that Mommy and Daddy weren't married any more and didn't live together. But Daddy was much happier. Molli and Daddy didn't fight very much, at least not when Michael was there.

It's 10:18 on Saturday. I'm just sitting down at the computer. Ray was using it when I got up. He completed one tax return before going to the office to do more people's taxes. It's 70 degrees in the house, just about perfect. Warm outside but very overcast and it was windy/gusty when I walked the dog briefly, and cleaned up after him. Sometimes I can't wait until I don't have to do that any more and other times I think I'll miss him. I'm looking forward to a visit from a young friend who is spending the night, giving her parents a chance to go to a comedy show that will be over late. Apparently, she has been asking to stay here. I'm adjusting to the idea of not having a home in Massachusetts for awhile. M&M&T are working hard to get the old house emptied and ready for closing on April 7. It's sounds like everything is on track and I am so grateful. I hate not being there to oversee everything, but can't physically do much.

Ice World

The feast was over. The fires were dying down. The people went back into their homes, closing the doors to be safe against the Wild Ones. The hunt had been good and they had meat to feed them for a while, until the next day. They would sleep and wake and nibble, but not open the doors until the sun came again. The homes were underground, dug into the ice, and connected with each other with doors. Going out in the dark was forbidden with good reason. Anyone who didn't come in before Closing was lost, never seen again. There were no remains found. If you wanted to scare yourself, you could huddle close to the door and listen. You would hear them snuffling, although you did not see them. Once she had heard a cry, like someone being taken, but no one was missing the next Day. It wasn't warm in the Burrow, not like sitting in the sun in mid-Day, but the fur kept them comfortable. They slept on piiles of skins and wrapped themselves in the fur of the Others. They ate the Other's meat to keep them alive. And they chewed on ice when they were thirsty. They talked about where they would go for the next hunt and remembered old hunts. They played games with bits of bone. When it was Day, they hunted the Others with sharpened pieces of their bones, and made ropes from their sinews for dragging them back to the Circle. Without the Others, there would be no life. The Others ate things that lived with them in the water, but the People never ate them. When the hunt was small, it was talked of, but the Eldest warned against it. If we are worthy and penitent, the hunt will be good again. We must make the music. The flutes were made of bone and the drums of skins stretched over bone. Every feast yielded one new drum-bone and the most worthy would receive it to make it their own. The only other way to get a drum was the death of a Drummer. Each Day began with the festival of death. Any who had died during the night would be laid out and mourned before the Hunt began. Sometimes there are no bodies to mourn, but the ritual is performed anyway. The Eldest leads the hunters on the path to the water. I have never been, of course, being underage by 20 days. It is not known yet whether I will be a hunter, or a drummer, or a birther, or a digger. In 20 days, 10 of us will be designated. I think I would be well-suited for digging, but there are fewer of us now, so less need for digging. Birthing is most needed, but that future does not call to me. Perhaps I will be a drumemr and one Day become the Eldest. When the hunters come back, all the drummers play the dragging song and we rush toward the weary hunters to take our turn pulling. This is how we become strong and helps determine our designation.

In the future

People will wear an outer layer when they go outside that protects against sun, pollutants, skin irritants and contact poisons. An inner layer that is comfortable and skimpy. Outer is uniform to not draw attention. Inner can be very personal but only vetted friends will see it. Temperature inside is constant. cooler at night. Lighting also uniform, ubiquitous. No windows. Meredith and her Mom were playing hide and seek, like they often did. Except this was not the time or place, as her mother said, calling to her. The city was dangerous, with strange people and places. Meredith was 4 and did not have a good sense of timing. Or maybe she did. Maybe she knew her Mom was worried and wanted to cheer her up. She always seemed to enjoy playing hide and seek. But now her Mom didn't seem to be able to find her. She was calling her, but her voice was getting farther and farther away. Meredith jumped out of her hiding place and ran to where she had seen her last. Mom, she yelled. Mommy! She ran down a street, looking everywhere and turned a corner. Now she was really lost and she began to cry. "I just wanted to play. I just wanted you to make you happy." Today, her Mom had seemed unhappy and they had gone for their walk in a different direction. Usually they went to the corner and got some coffee for Mom and a treat for Meredith. Then they would see what there was at the grocery store. Some days they didn't buy anything, but usually there was something Mom needed: flour to make muffins or something for Meredith to drink. Mom said there was a time when people just turned the faucet and drank what came out. But you couldn't do that now. A man was walking down the street toward her. She looked at him carefully. He looked nice, with a blue shirt and nice pants and shiny shoes. She got up and ran to him. "I lost my Mommy," she said. "Can you help me?" "I don't know." he said. "I"ll try." The man was a government agent, he was not someone used to helping children, but he was not a bad person. First, he called the police and reported the situation. "What's your Mommy's name?" he asked Meredith. "Susan," she said, but I call her Mommy." Do you know where you live? In a tall house with an elevator. On the eighth floor, number 801. Near the market. OK, he said, let's see if we can find your house." They could see a tall building a few blocks away and headed toward it. "Not this way," said Meredith. She seemed very sure. "Did you and Mommy walk here?" he asked. In the end, he left her with the police. He had to be at a meeting at 1 and he couldn't take her with him. She was very tired and hungry and he really didn't know anything about little girls. After his meeting, he went to the police station and asked, "where is Meredith? Did you find her mom?" The person who had been working when he dropped her off was not there and no one else seemed to know anything about her. She was not in the computer. There were no young girls named Meredith in the city records. Over the next few days, when he could, he checked out tall buildings, with apartments number 801. None of them were missing a little girl. Of course, there was not always someone home to answer his question. After about 10 days, he went back to some of the places he had gotten no answer. He found a man who said he had just moved in. There could have been a little girl living here before, he said, but I don't know. When Charles asked the manager, he said, "I can't give out information like that." Hmmm. That made Charles wonder. If there hadn't been someone there before, he could probably have just said no. He waited outside and talked to people who came out of the building. "I don't know," they would say, or "maybe so." Finally, he did talk to a woman who said, "Meredith?" she lived on my floor. She and her mothere went everywhere together. And now they're just not there. Do you know anything about them?" "I met Meredith the end of last month on Delaney Street. She was lost. I took her to the police station, but when I went back, they acted like they didn't know what I was talking about." He got the mother's name from the neighbor. She asked him to let her know what he found out and gave him her name and number. He looked for information about Susan, but found little. There was nothing about a partner or a daughter. She had worked in a shoe store for many years. He went to the store and asked about her, but the people there didn't know much. She had stopped coming to work about the time Charles had found Meredith. She was a good worker, but not very talkative. They didn't know much, although she sometimes mentioned her daughter, buying shoes for her once. The shoes had a built-in tracker, like parents sometimes bought for their kids. It didn't seem like that was important to Susan, she had picked them out because they were on sale and she thought her child would like them. They had rainbows on the side, but otherwise looked ordinary. "Can I activate the tracker?" Not really. The Mom would have the code to set it up on her phone. They didn't make the shoes any more, because some unscrupulous people had gotten access to all the codes. It was a long shot, but Charles wondered if some of the unscrupulous people he knew would be able to tap into that information. Did he want to owe Johnny a favor? Not really, but he felt a strong pull to find Meredith. He hoped she was ok and safe with her Mom...but where could they be? Meredith had said her Mom seemed worried that morning. He went back to the street where he had found her. Where had they been heading? Was she looking for a new place to live? Meredith's clothes were not a clue. He thought, the shoes. she was wearing the shoes with the tracker. Now he would have to call Johnny. Johnny knew a guy...he had to promise not to turn him in before he could get access to the system. When hea talked about Meredith to the men, it was clear that he was worried about her. "What's she to you?" they asked. "Why do you care?" "I don't know," he said. "I just want to make sure she's okay. It's odd how she disappeared.' "It would take you a while to check out all these shoes," the man told him. "But you can eliminate some of them. All these are in the same place--waiting to be incinerated." "There's about 50 pairs still active in different parts of the city. And we only know the building, not which apartment." He went to three buildings that day and tried to find out if there were any little girls living there. Then he realized Meredith could have easily passed for a boy, so he went back and tried again. If she was hiding, though, maybe he shouldn't try to find her. Maybe it would be dangerous for her--or him. As he approached the fourth building, he recognized a car parked on the street, a greenish sedan that he had seen before. Someone else was trying to find her--but why? What secrets could a four-year-old girl hold?