Sunday morning ramble, now with a missing hour

Sundays blow by fast enough enough, dammit. Then they go and take another hour away from me. I don’t see the point, I really don’t. It’s like that old story about “Grandma’s Pot Roast.” The recipe was passed down from Grandma to Mom to Daughter, and it began “Cut the ends off a 5-pound roast.” And one day Daughter asked Mom why they needed to cut the ends off the roast, because yes you could use them for stew or whatnot, but it seemed a waste, and Mom didn’t know but was sure that there was some Secret Cook’s Reason that had been lost over time, so they went to Grandma and asked her why she had to cut the ends off the pot roast, and Grandma said, “Because otherwise it wouldn’t fit in my roast pan.”

I may have read somewhere that energy usage actually went goes during DST time because people used less energy for lights, etc. But I would think it might be offset by A/C usage in hotter climates. It just doesn’t seem to make much sense anymore, and the primary justification still seems to be that if we don’t do it, it won’t fit in the roast pan.


I need to start tomato seeds in trays this week. I had bought some of the usual varieties from, one of my online seed places. I was planning on starting them last weekend when a commenter on a blog I visit posted about Seeds from Italy, an online seed store that sells…wait for it…seeds from Italy. Basil. Kale. Onions. Leeks. And hey, tomatoes.

I’ve always wanted to try European tomato varieties because while homegrown tomatoes from US-sourced heirloom seeds are better than storebought, I have still always found their flavor disappointing. I won’t rant anymore about it–and hey you, get off my lawn–but I am looking forward to these giving these new varieties a try. I ordered 5 types of seeds, including Organic San Marzano, the classic sauce tomato, and Italian Basil. I am supposed to use a heating pad to warm the seed tray to 75-85F until germination, which may prove tricky. But otherwise the seeds could take three weeks to sprout, and that’s too long.


Cookies. I baked some. I used this recipe, but deviated somewhat. I added pecans and soft candied ginger in addition to the dried cranberries, and left out the white chocolate. Used orange zest and oil instead of lemon. And I added a half-teaspoon of salt. No, the recipe didn’t call for any, but I have found that it does boost flavor overall. Toasted the oatmeal and the pecans.

My verdict? Not as good as Ina Garten’s Raisin Pecan Oatmeal Cookies, even though the ingredients are almost identical. I think I should have stuck with lemon zest/oil instead of orange. It would have imparted a little tart zing that would have offset the sweetness of the cranberries. They’re good enough. Kind of granola bar-like. But next time I will stick with raisins, or maybe give dates a try.


Took King to the vet yesterday for his semiannual senior exam. He’s in good shape, fingers crossed. His eyes are cloudy from age, and he’s a few pounds too heavy. But he looks good overall. His teeth are perfect. He’s going to turn 11 at the end of this month, and according to the chart in the examining room, that’s the equivalent of 86 human years for a dog of his size/weight.

It’s hard for me to adjust to King’s getting older. He sleeps more. He will chase Gaby a little, but mostly he stands in one spot and pounces at her as she whizzes by. Sometimes he stands in one spot, even  after I’ve called him, and just stares. It’s not disobedience. He has this look on his face, as if he’s trying to remember something.

It doesn’t happen often. He’s still pretty much on the ball. My Fearless Watch Puppy.  Seems like not so long ago when he was that little coiled spring that used to go after the bag my Dad would use for puppy poop collection and run off with it. I can still see King darting around the backyard, bag in mouth, turds scattering, and my Dad galloping after him, shovel in hand, calling “Get back here, you son-of-a-bitch.”