The curtains are drawn, the lamps are lit, and there's a fire in the fireplace. There will be stew for dinner, and we are bundled up in flannel and fleece. We are resisting turning the heat on, but it may go below 40 tonight, and our thermostat is already at 64, so that plan may be revised.
It's fall, ya'll!
I was carefully picking tiny cucumbers from the bin of picklers at the farmers market when I noticed someone waiting patiently to my left. "I'm sorry," I said. "Am I in your way?"
"Yes," the market worker answered, nodding to the crate of cukes he was waiting to add. But before I could step aside, he pulled a little cucumber of just the right size from his crate. "How about this one?" he asked.
"Perfect!" I answered, "Thank you!"
From there, it was quick work for the two of us to fill my bag. "I appreciate your honesty when I asked you if I was in the way," I laughed, "and it was really nice of you to help me! Thanks again."
"You're welcome," he said, dumping his cucumbers in the bin.
When I was a toddler, my older cousin and her husband offered to babysit me at their apartment one evening. I have a vague recollection of Mr. Ed on the black and white TV, but what I most remember was that there was a satin comforter on the bed. I don't know how it happened, but when my parents came to get me, I got to keep the comforter, maybe because I loved it so much.
In fact, I loved it so much that I kept it with me and slept with it every night well into my teens. I wore a hole in it, but my mom cut that part away and sewed a new seam, so I had a smaller version. The smooth, cool sensation of that blanket could relax me immediately. In time, even the smaller blanket got a hole in it, and although I kept the tatters for a while, eventually, I realized it was time to give up my security blanket.
We were shopping at Costco a few weeks ago when we happened down the bedding aisle. Not in the market for any such thing, I could have kept on going, but a comforter caught my eye. Labeled a "cooling blanket," there was a sample of it next to the shelf, and when I reached out to touch it, I gasped. Just brushing my fingers against it stirred a visceral memory of my old blanket. I couldn't believe I had found another one after so many decades. We purchased it immediately and put it on our bed, and I have slept soundly ever since. When I wake up in the middle of the night and feel it, I go right back to sleep. That thing literally puts the comfort in comforter.
A few days later, I realized my cousin's birthday was coming up. The same cousin who once babysat me was turning 79. I found a version of the same comforter and sent it to her. "Thank you," she wrote. It's beautiful and silky, and I keep it on my couch for my day-napping luxury.
I know! I got a couple smaller ones for our own couch, and I hope never to be separated from my blankets again.
Emily's Birthday Menu
Bite-sized Fried Green Tomatoes with Pimento Cheese Cream and Baby Basil
Mini Sourdough Tarts with Cherry Tomato Confit
Pickled Green Beans
Assorted Olives
Handkerchief of Pumpkin Pasta
Green Squash, Shaved Purple Beans, Corn, Prosciutto
Goat Cheese and Preserved Lemon Cream Sauce
Fall Salad Greens
Warm Pickled Shiitakes
Roasted Sweet Potatoes
Miso Mustard Dressing
Cioppino with Carolina Shrimp, Atlantic Scallops, Little Neck Clams, and Icelandic Cod
Housemade Sourdough Bread
Blood Orange and Olive Oil Teacake with Chocolate Glaze
Dark Chocolate Gelato
My phone was blowing up with news reports and social media notifications-- the Northern Lights were visible from Arlington! I was disappointed when I stepped out on the upstairs deck and faced north, though. The sky was not alive with dancing lights. I had read that the Aurora might be more visible with a camera, so I pulled out my phone. Sure enough, I got a faint glimpse of the glory when I looked at my screen. It wasn't the light show I hoped for, but it was still kind of cool.
A few months ago, the license plate reader at the car wash stopped letting me in. I bought an annual pass back in salt, mud, and crow poop season, so technically I have prepaid to wash my car every day for a year. The expense was less than you might think, and the concept is that I can simply drive up, the gate will open, I'll proceed to the washing shed, and then I'll relax as my car is vigorously rinsed, washed, rinsed again, and dried. But waiting for an attendant to punch in my license plate number really spoiled the easy in/easy out vibe.
Then, when I renewed my registration, I noticed a warning that when a plate is unreadable, it must be replaced, otherwise, it is considered a traffic violation. I went out and took a hard look at my plates. They were definitely showing their 14 years; the blue was peeling off most of the letters and numbers. That's why the car wash wouldn't let me in.
Still, I'm a stubborn sort, and I didn't really want new plates; I felt like I had just learned those, and it seemed my only option was a specialty plate with a custom insignia. Even so, I had noticed that on the standard plates, the state, which started with Zs plus four digits at least 20 years ago, was up to Ts (my own plate was an X), and I secretly envied the TWA and TRA plates. I considered my choices on and off for a few months and finally opted for a personalized plate that might not immediately read like one. I chose THX 1998.
All of this is to explain that license plate numbers have been a big topic of conversation around here lately, and so I'm very sensitive to them. That's why today, in the Target parking lot, I laughed out loud when I saw these two next to each other:
Heidi had her surgery follow-up appointment today, and the news was great. Since she is healing so well and getting more mobile every day, I asked her if she wanted to go to lunch. "Can you find a place that Lucy can go, too?" she replied.
A little internet research revealed several options, but we settled on Vola's, a dockside restaurant in Old Town Alexandria that not only allows dogs on the waterfront patio but also has a dog menu. The weather was glorious, a classic October day with golden sunshine, blue skies, and a little nip in the air, and the experience was as promised: the staff was welcoming, and the other patrons were tolerant and amused by a very well-behaved Lucy.
The food was good, too. Lucy loved her yogurt ice cream, but she did leave her apples in the bowl. My grilled grouper sandwich with marinated tomatoes and served with housemade chips was yummy. Heidi enjoyed her Beyond Burger, too, especially since it was topped with french-fried onion shreds and green goddess sauce.
After lunch, the three of us explored the network of little waterfront parks leading south to Jones Point before looping back to our car. Old Town was bustling for a weekday, and the fun vibe of our afternoon out stayed with us long after we headed home.
