Not What I Have in Mind

"How are you enjoying retirement?" a neighbor asked me yesterday. We were on our way to the farmers market, and she was walking her dogs.

I shrugged. "It just feels like summer so far," I laughed. "How's yours going?" I asked, knowing that she had retired about a year ago.

"My definition of 'accomplishment' has definitely changed," she reported. "I used to be go-go-go, busy all day, and now I'm happy when I unload the dishwasher," she sighed.

My eyes widened, and she nodded. "Anyway, enjoy!" She waved and continued walking.

Just a Number

Back when Treat was three, and his older brother was six, he hatched a plan to become the senior sibling simply by saying so. When anyone asked the adorable toddler how old he was, he would answer, "I'm seven."

In the inevitable confusion his response caused, my brother taught him to add, "Technically, I'm three, but I'm really seven."

Treat turned 29 a few days ago, but he told us he considers himself 30, a notion which has something to do with realizing a couple of years ago that 27 was not really mid-, but rather late-twenties. He does, however, plan to be 30 for a couple of years or so, or at least until "mid-thirties" is unquestionably accurate.

Because, honestly? Who cares?

Live and Learn

This morning, I picked up my iced coffee from the side table next to my chair and took a sip. As I drank, a bead of condensation from the cup dripped onto my leg, sparkling in the morning sunshine as it fell. In a flash, our cat Tibby was on it: she leaped up from her spot on the rug and dashed over. But when her nose touched the cold droplet running down my shin, she jumped straight up and backward, eyes wide. 

Not sure what she expected, but it wasn't a wet nose.

Keys

I.

"I don't know whose key this is," my mom told me some years ago, producing a cute little monkey-headed housekey from her purse.

"It's got to be Courtney's," I replied. "Who else do you know who would give you a monkey key?" 

"I think you're right," she said.

II.

"What is this?" gasped one of the 7th grade boys who came to my room every morning. 

"Oh, it's my new--" I started.

"I touched it first!" said his buddy, grabbing my key ring from my desk. "I touched the monkey key first!"

III.

"I can't find my house key," Heidi sighed. "I need a new one."

"How did you even lose it?" I scoffed.

"YOU told me to keep it separate from my car key in case I need to give them to the service station," she fired back, "and it must have slipped off the carabiner."

IV.

"You should get a monkey key," I told Heidi as we stood in the hardware store, considering our options. You'll love it! It's so cute and it springs to your hand when it's time to unlock the door!It is also a very substantial key—so easy to find on your ring!"

"I want the dog paw," she answered.

"That's good, too," I shrugged.

Just the Ticket

This rainy day seemed to give us permission to relax in our pajamas this morning, go to the gym after lunch, and grab a movie this afternoon. With all our errands run yesterday, what a relief it was not to worry about watering the plants or the garden or taking a long, hot walk with the dog. Oh, the heatwave will be back in a day or two, but until then? We'll enjoy this respite.

A Paucity of Pandan Paste

The photo in the food section made me do it.

The crisp Bundt cake with a bright green interior caught my eye. Then the recipe featuring tapioca starch, rice flour, and pandan paste, an ingredient I had never heard of before that not only made the cake green but reportedly tasted like jasmine, vanilla, citrus, and toasted rice, sealed the deal. 

I've been cooking for a long time, and it's not often anymore that I encounter unfamiliar ingredients or techniques. So, a trip to the Asian market was added to our list of errands, and off we went.

But this pandan paste turned out to be somewhat elusive. Knowing the market is always helpful when shopping for atypical ingredients, but since my usual Asian market closed a few years ago, I haven't found a regular replacement. It also didn't help that I didn't know exactly what I was looking for. Even so, I was sure someone in the huge specialty grocery store would help me. 

Upon investigation, I discovered that most of the employees were not Asian and were as unfamiliar with the layout as I was. Eventually, I found a can of pandam leaf extract, which sounded pretty liquid and not pasty at all when I gave it a shake. I added it to my handbasket anyhow, along with my starches and coconut milk. 

At home, I enjoyed the novel mixing technique of sifting and sieving all the ingredients back and forth between two bowls several times, although I was disappointed by the lack of flavor and color of my pandan juice. My cake looked as vanilla and tasted as coconut as could be.

No worries, though. I modified the recipe to make a tiny cake, one-third the size of the one that caught my eye, and when my mail-order pandan paste arrives? 

I will give it another go.

(Not my cake. Yet!)

Uncool

A couple friends stopped by to check in on Lucy after her surgery. The excision of the nasty cyst on her back had gone very well, and she groggily accepted their concern and promptly fell asleep. The four of us sat around chatting, which seemed an odd thing to do on a Wednesday afternoon, but hello summer, and hello retirement; I guess I could get used to such things.

Of course, our conversation turned to the weather, what with this punishing, interminable heatwave. I wished aloud that the possible thunderstorms that were predicted would bucket down, and sooner rather than later. Someone else mentioned the rain that *could* fall on Friday and perhaps cool us down a bit. "Then it might be, what? In the 80s?" she sighed and rolled her eyes.. "And we'll probably feel like it's fall or something."

I didn't even tell her what I had noticed yesterday when I stopped into one of those bargain clothes and home goods places.