Indoor activities for this Saturday. Actually, every Saturday is indoor activities for me. Sunday,too. The difference is when it’s nice and sunny outside, the pressure is on to do something interesting and I can’t hold up under that weight and so I just hide inside and I don’t do anything in case anyone catches me. That way I can pretend that I was just about to go outside. But on a bad weather day, I can be free to wallow in the glory of actual activity.
You people know too much about me.
Anyway, Sami is outside performing his meticulous, hours long routine of snow removal plow/cursing at the plow. I have already made Orange-Cranberry Biscotti and I have some chicken soup simmering on the stove for him. It’s one of those refrigerator dump soups inspired by some forlorn leftover Chicken Dijon. When it’s all finished, I’m going to add some left over penne, each of which I will cut into 4 pieces. Depending on what shape he’s in when he finally comes in, I might produce a grilled cheese sandwich as well.
There’s only about 4 inches of snow out there but it’s not the nicest snow. It’s that fine needle-y snow that’s so heavy to start with. The temperature is only 26 degrees and the plows now have salt dispensers on the back so as they move along the street, the salt turns whatever is left behind into instantly freezing mush-slush which will soon freeze.
taken from the warmth and comfort of the den
By the way, the township must be afraid of losing their snow removal budget so they seem intent on spending it down in a single day. So far, four plows have been by on a dead-end street that is usually forgotten until evening. Three of those four plows must have been driven by teenagers. You never saw so much back and forthing and the high speed plow runs to exit the street – oh, my dears! I fear for the asphalt after hearing a few loudest-ever plow drops onto the surface. Meanwhile, I’m going to sit inside without guilt and get into that World’s Fair book that I bought a few weeks ago. Equal parts pleasant nostalgia and evil (or misunderstood) Robert Moses.
Here. Have some biscotti.
lookin' like a cranberry tastin' like an orange
I love the way the information superhighway helps to pull things together that you might not have thought of on your own. Since I’m all about food and ’64 World’s Fair today, I though you might like to join my mindset by taking a look at an article I came across recently about the Culinary Impact of the 1964 world’s Fair.*
*I must confess that for many, years of my early unsophisticated hick life before I went off to the big time (nursing school in Hackensack NJ), I did call those things Bel-gem waffles.