Tuesday, August 8, 2017

'Tis the Season and Back to School


     'Tis the season of red and green! Our little garden is producing exactly the right amount for our enjoyment. We didn't plant a lot of variety this year because I decided to cut back on canning and preserving. So, we either eat or give away what we harvest. I even gave away a box of canning jars to daughter #2. It's a tiny bit sad to let go of that chapter in life when I did so much vegetable gardening and preserving but, it's for a good exchange of time toward other projects that I enjoy for now.
     Every summer I look forward to four particular dishes that use tomatoes and basil- Panzanella, Tomato Pie, Ratatouille, and any variety of Stuffed Tomatoes. Another item I must add to this list, but one that is not exactly a recipe, is a tomato sandwich. A low-gluten diet during tomato season is rather difficult. A tomato sandwich can only be enjoyed when it's made with a good quality white bread. There's just no way around that. I slather both slices of bread with mayonnaise, top with freshly sliced tomatoes, and generously sprinkle with salt and pepper. Mmm mmm, good!
         

     Yes, we are back to school! Classes begin tomorrow and I have been back in the office since last week. The staff and teachers make our elementary school an enjoyable place to work and I don't mind having summer cut short at this point. We have a record number of four hundred and eleven students attending this year. I'm sure we'll be kept busy. The tag in the picture was tied to a little bag of Tootsie Rolls and left on my desk by the principal. : )

Tuesday, August 1, 2017

The Way We Were Is the Way We Are


I am swing. He is jazz.
I'm sweet white. He's dry red.
I am loud. He is quiet.
I am Felix. He is Oscar.
I am motion. He is rest.
I'm New England. He's Miami.
I run. He walks.
I like mild. He likes hot.
He imbibes. I rarely do.
I am an early bird. He is a night owl.
I am words. He is numbers.
I am antique. He is modern.
I say, "Turn it off." He says, "Leave it on." 
He can remember. I can not.
Thirty-six years.
Not always easy, yet always perfection.