Holding pattern

We’re going walking in Yorkshire in a little over a week (when I started this, anyways. Now it’s less than a week). I’m trying to get past the worry-over-everything-that-needs-to-be-done-before-we-go phase, and start getting excited about the trip, but it’s hard. 

Meanwhile life goes on in cooking and bike riding and in general here in Madison.

Annie Dillard died. I found out because my brother sent me this page from An American Childhood. Like me and my brother, Dillard grew up in Pittsburgh, too. I only read Pilgrim at Tinker Creek, but my copy of American Childhood has just come in at the library so maybe it’ll be my hardcover book take to Yorkshire, my superstition that whenever you travel you need to take a library book so you will come home to return it.  

We went to see Patti Smith on book tour for Bread of Angels, and she dedicated one of the cover songs she did, Work by Charlotte Day Wilson, to Annie. The other cover was Dylan’s Man in the Long Black Coat, which she sang after talking about performing Dark Eyes with Dylan when he invited her to open for him for a few shows in 1995, right after Fred Smith died. The story about Annie Dillard was also funny: Patti said she didn’t really read Annie Dillard because she doesn’t really read nonfiction, even though she writes nonfiction (and song lyrics, poetry), but she said she just liked Annie Dillard. Patti liked Dillard’s prickly attitude and commitment to work, to write every day.

And oh yea, Patti opened with Grateful, one of my favorite songs of hers.       

This year is 25 years since September 11th, 2001, so there was a lot of remembrance. The 11th was a Friday this year; I think the first one was a Tuesday. The weekend that followed was Rosh Hashanah and fallen challah and Badgers football. That is, on Saturday morning before I left to go volunteer at the Farmers Market info booth, I set a sponge for the challah.  When I got back I made the dough and left it rising and biked to another errand, and realized that I didn’t put the honey in. Kind of a big omission for challah. I think I also didn’t put enough flour in – the dough was really sticky. It was a hot day and it over rose, and you can see the results below. I made another batch, stiffer dough, and left it rising in the fridge while we went to the football game. Which was OK, kind of fun, introducing our student to Badger football and its traditions. I left after the band halftime show, which was disco-themed (and baked the challah), Mark and Miri stayed until Build me up Buttercup. It also occurs to me that since it was Rosh Hashanah, it must be Ruth Bader Ginsberg’s jahrzeit, but that’s not until the 18th, that was Rosh Hashanah in 2020, and we’ll get to that weekend in a minute. Although Patti Smith, above, was the 22nd. But I’ve decided I like jumping around date-wise in posts, it kind of suits memory, my memory anyhow.     

 

So we were talking about food and cooking and normal life, right?

On the Thursday before September 11th, this guy came to visit my kitchen window.

I told you Jasper got a new little point & shoot camera, so I got one for myself. It’s called a CampSnap. After research, I have come to the conclusion that the iPhone simply has a better lens. 

The same Sunday I made the plum cake, I made a veggie hash for breakfast. I thought maybe Miri might eat it, because it is largely potato – this was before I got a clear declaration from her that she simply does not eat cooked vegetables, aside from tomato sauce and all forms of potato (although she picks out onions or red peppers or any other extraneous vegetables in with the potatoes). That Sunday was also the day of the IronMan, and she went to volunteer as a course monitor before breakfast so the test was never made. I ate the leftovers one day the following week, tucked into a pita with an egg on top. 

Here’s all the plums, from Morren Orchard, that I made into the cake, except a few. 

Also that IronMan Sunday I made scones

John and Megan’s cats are getting big.

The next weekend was the Willy Street Fair, only a partial rainout this year, and Bike the Barns.

On the Thursday before Friday the 18th, RGB’s jahrzeit, I went to the opening for the PhotoMidwest biennial at Promega. Mark was in Chicago at the symphony, so I just drove over for a little bit, after Al picked up Jasper. I had him Tuesday & Thursday that week because the other grandparents were away. There were some nice pictures. The best part, though, is I met the show’s curator, Karen Irvine, who had been John’s boss when he was in grad school. At Columbia College’s Museum of Contemporary Photography in Chicago, MoCP. Always nice as a mom, to have someone tell you how great your kid is, which Karne proceeded to do as soon as I introduced myself as John’s mom.

Saturday the Willy Street Fair didn’t get started until afternoon because of the rain. I baked Dorla’s pie, and we went and picked out a new faucet for Mark’s kitchen. I took the bus over and saw Chris Plata and Extra Hot, and had a beer and came home on the bus, in time for dinner. Trying to remember what I made …. 

 Sunday I volunteered for Bike the Barns, and then got to Willy Street in time to watch the parade and deliver the pie. Pretty good for a partial rainout. There’s better pics and lots of video on the Fair’s insta.