Eating a bowl of not-cold/not-hot white rice with a little sugar on it. Leftover from dinner. Comfort food. Have become quite a dab hand at making it. After almost 30 years of marriage, you'd think I'd have mastered it before now. Ha. We have this deep iron skillet with a tight-fitting lid and that's my secret. Works a charm. Sadly never tried the skillet until a few months ago. Four cups of rice, just over 5-1/2 cups of water and there she goes. Not the 2 to 1 ratio, but it seems to work for me. And who's to argue with someone who's tried to cook rice for this long?
But even with the hoop-lah surrounding the truck-theft-attempt I feel all cozy and settled. My copy of
The Towers of Trebizond came today and am also reading
The Everlasting Meal. Haven't hardly cracked the cover of the Towers book (am dangling it in front of my face, avoiding really reading it so I can get into it at at bedtime), but am to about chapter 4 or so in Everlasting.
Thankful that most of the bills are paid for the month, and even though we're cutting it close, the major annoyances are satisfied. Get the house note and gas/electric/water bill paid and I'm in high cotton. If I have a place to live, the basics in the house as to utilities, plus a few household necessaries and some dinner, I'm all set. Well, tea. I need to have some tea. But that's all. Chocolate's nice too, but I don't always have that. Sad. And I'd adore some shortbread, but that'd just be plain greedy.
Now will go. Hope you rest well.
