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rebeccmeisterI already blogged about yesterday morning. In the afternoon, I cooked up a storm. First, I made a big batch of a creamy tomato-lentil slow cooker soup from the NYT. I didn't have any cream, but we somehow have a whole bunch of cans of coconut milk, so I can report that the soup is pretty good with coconut milk as a substitute. One of the reasons for making the soup was to use up some of the last of this year's garden tomatoes that S brought in to finish ripening. Done. I like the concept of a tomato soup with added protein for rib-sticking power.
Then I finished cooking the ingredients and assembled the Portobello Wellington, and got the Madeira Sauce underway. With those items well in hand, I got to work on some more pumpkin-apple-pecan pie filling. Yum. I mean, just look at it!
(Never mind the dirty dishwater underneath it!) In between cooking tasks, I finally got started on a mending project that has been in the mending pile for at least a year: dealing with sleeve wear on an older bicycling jersey.
From the looks of it, this is just going to be a common wear point for me with wool bicycling jerseys. If this mending experiment is a success, I'll be very pleased. Wool cycling jerseys aren't cheap and I'd much rather keep the ones I have going than have to go shop for more. I have another wool cycling jersey that will be in the repair queue once this one is done.
At around this time, I started to get suspicious that I hadn't seen much of Martha all day. She does seem like the sort of cat who might arbitrarily decide to go curl up somewhere quiet and dark for several hours, but this seemed like longer than usual. Shaking a cat treat bag quickly summoned George, but no Martha. Also unusual. Hmm.
I went around the house and checked all the most logical hiding spots. In doing so, I found several other items I'd lost track of, but still, no Martha.
It was getting close to time to head to a friend's for Thanksgiving. I messaged my friend to say I might be delayed by the hunt for a loose cat.
Shaking the treat bag outdoors failed to summon Martha, either. It was starting to seem like I might be searching for a missing cat for much of Thanksgiving evening.
It occurred to me that one of the more distinct noises the cats associate with me is the opening and closing of the garage door, as I get my bike out to go to work in the morning, and put my bike away when I get home in the evening. I didn't ride my bike yesterday, but with that thought in mind I went ahead and cycled the garage door.
A minute or two later, there was Martha, at the back door. She knows the noise means it's almost suppertime. Whew.
That meant that friends and I could enjoy our vegetarian Thanksgiving feast without added worry.
Here's Martha, later that evening.
I don't think she feels even an ounce of remorse. I'm pretty sure that she escaped off the front porch in the morning when I had the dim-witted idea of opening up the porch door for better ventilation while erging. It was only a few moments later that it occurred to me that the cats could escape if I did that, but clearly Martha had wasted no time.
I had a different sort of misadventure this morning. In the midst of a workout to accumulate more rowing meters, I had the thought that it might be a good idea to lubricate the rowing erg's chain. I had a small bottle of chain oil for that very purpose nearby, so while I was in between pieces, I started to apply the oil.
I failed to pay close attention to some ominous plastic cracking noises until it was far too late, and the bottle's brittle plastic shattered in my hand.
Mineral oil EVERYWHERE!!
THAT was a hassle to clean up, let me tell you.
Other than that, so far today has consisted of going to work to water ants and collect up some student writing to grade. There's some potential for heavy snowfall this afternoon, so I decided I'd rather come home and grade at home than gamble with having to deal with a snowy commute later in the day.
Then I finished cooking the ingredients and assembled the Portobello Wellington, and got the Madeira Sauce underway. With those items well in hand, I got to work on some more pumpkin-apple-pecan pie filling. Yum. I mean, just look at it!
(Never mind the dirty dishwater underneath it!) In between cooking tasks, I finally got started on a mending project that has been in the mending pile for at least a year: dealing with sleeve wear on an older bicycling jersey.
From the looks of it, this is just going to be a common wear point for me with wool bicycling jerseys. If this mending experiment is a success, I'll be very pleased. Wool cycling jerseys aren't cheap and I'd much rather keep the ones I have going than have to go shop for more. I have another wool cycling jersey that will be in the repair queue once this one is done.
At around this time, I started to get suspicious that I hadn't seen much of Martha all day. She does seem like the sort of cat who might arbitrarily decide to go curl up somewhere quiet and dark for several hours, but this seemed like longer than usual. Shaking a cat treat bag quickly summoned George, but no Martha. Also unusual. Hmm.
I went around the house and checked all the most logical hiding spots. In doing so, I found several other items I'd lost track of, but still, no Martha.
It was getting close to time to head to a friend's for Thanksgiving. I messaged my friend to say I might be delayed by the hunt for a loose cat.
Shaking the treat bag outdoors failed to summon Martha, either. It was starting to seem like I might be searching for a missing cat for much of Thanksgiving evening.
It occurred to me that one of the more distinct noises the cats associate with me is the opening and closing of the garage door, as I get my bike out to go to work in the morning, and put my bike away when I get home in the evening. I didn't ride my bike yesterday, but with that thought in mind I went ahead and cycled the garage door.
A minute or two later, there was Martha, at the back door. She knows the noise means it's almost suppertime. Whew.
That meant that friends and I could enjoy our vegetarian Thanksgiving feast without added worry.
Here's Martha, later that evening.
I don't think she feels even an ounce of remorse. I'm pretty sure that she escaped off the front porch in the morning when I had the dim-witted idea of opening up the porch door for better ventilation while erging. It was only a few moments later that it occurred to me that the cats could escape if I did that, but clearly Martha had wasted no time.
I had a different sort of misadventure this morning. In the midst of a workout to accumulate more rowing meters, I had the thought that it might be a good idea to lubricate the rowing erg's chain. I had a small bottle of chain oil for that very purpose nearby, so while I was in between pieces, I started to apply the oil.
I failed to pay close attention to some ominous plastic cracking noises until it was far too late, and the bottle's brittle plastic shattered in my hand.
Mineral oil EVERYWHERE!!
THAT was a hassle to clean up, let me tell you.
Other than that, so far today has consisted of going to work to water ants and collect up some student writing to grade. There's some potential for heavy snowfall this afternoon, so I decided I'd rather come home and grade at home than gamble with having to deal with a snowy commute later in the day.
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