Indian Summer is a funny term. It feels vaguely derogatory, so I read up on it a bit and now I can't decide. It describes a positive thing -- who doesn't love a little warm weather after some really cold weather, before we dip down deep into winter? And yet, hmm. In different parts of Europe it's called things like "Old Women's Summer," "Poor Man's Summer," and "Gypsy Summer." Indians, old women, poor men, and gypsies. Not a group that usually gets associated with positive things. I don't know what to do with this and neither does anyone else. There's no obvious replacement term (though see my blog post title above).
When I turned over the calendar on Monday I was struck by how short November is -- on account of Thanksgiving week. That is, the month is a full 30 days, but there are only three weeks of school and then a week off (with, OK, two little days after that, but they'll go by quickly and then it will be December). One week is gone already, so only two more. Plus, next Thursday is a holiday (Veteran's Day) and the school district is giving us Friday off too, because they don't have enough staff to keep the schools open. So it's really more like two and a half weeks. The month feels over already.
Little reminders that the world is still nuts: never before Covid did the school district shut down because they couldn't staff the schools.
Now, no store has much of anything. I make the rounds -- King Soopers, Target, Safeway, Walmart. At each store I pick up a couple of cans. This past week all King's had was a few cans of pate. As you see above, right now I have enough to last us four more days. Then I get to hunt again. It's like Soviet Russia!
I also haven't been able to buy their dry food, Purina Cat Chow Naturals -- "Indoor." I found a sack of "Regular" so they're eating that. Fortunately they're not super fussy cats.
I should note that persimmons cost $3.99 each. This is very funny to me, because growing up in California, persimmons were free! Nobody bought persimmons in a store, you got them from your neighbor who had a persimmon tree! One year I remember my cousin Ian's wife Ellyn sent me and Rocket Boy home from a visit with a large box of Hachiya persimmons. He ate every one (this was pre-twins) with delight.
Ah, food. Always a challenge, even now when we are wealthy enough to afford $3.99 persimmons. I have been doing about as well/badly with dinner as I always do. I manage to cook two or three times a week, and the rest of the time we have leftovers, eat out (usually just once a week), or I make something stupid like scrambled eggs or sandwiches.
I have so much trouble deciding what to cook! Apparently, if random people's comments on cooking blogs can be believed, other people have "rotations," which are I guess lists of main courses that people "rotate" through. People on these blogs are always saying, in the comments, "Adding this to the rotation!" I always wonder -- how many dishes do you have in your "rotation"? Do you go through it in order, so does lentil soup always follow shrimp tacos, or do you mix and match a little? And, the big question -- do you really have a rotation, or are you just saying that because everyone else is?
I used to have a sort of rotation. It was a list of "Dinners We Like," created when the boos were small, and I actually used to pick things off of it to cook. The list was organized by days -- Monday was soup/salad day, Tuesday was seafood day, Wednesday was egg/chicken day, Thursday was pasta day, Friday was Mexican day, Saturday was pizza day, and Sunday was breakfast for dinner day (which it still often is). I worked with that "rotation" for a long time, but except for Sunday, eventually gave it up (though I still often feel the urge to make soup on Monday). It became very boring to always have pasta on Thursday, Mexican food on Friday. Plus, what about leftovers?
But this past week I went back to random recipes. I made Zucchini Butter Spaghetti, which is a recent Smitten Kitchen recipe, and even though everyone in the comments was absolutely going to "add it to the rotation," the twins were distinctly unimpressed.
We're having the leftovers this evening, after ignoring it for the past couple of days. It'll undoubtedly be even more popular tonight.
Mixed in with comments on how the world is ending are actual meal plans. On Monday the mom makes "an easy, vegetarian three-bean chili," on Tuesday she does veggie burgers wrapped in lettuce, on Wednesday she tries to make a tuna noodle casserole but ends up ordering pizza, Thursday is sandwiches, Friday is frozen dinners ("your kids will get a decade's supply of sodium"), Saturday is cereal, and Sunday is taco night. Excuse me, Taco night! Can't forget the exclamation point.
The article begins well:
...I know how hard it can be to provide your family with nutritious dinners that are also tasty, eco-conscious, cookbook-cover-worthy, and affordable. But because of misogyny built into the very fabric of our society, I'm somehow expected to!
I loved that. But then I think about things I've already said in this blog post, such as making fun of commenters on cooking blogs who talk about their "rotations." And you understand that these commenters are almost all female, at least 90% of them. I don't know what men do. Mostly, of course, they don't handle family dinner. But those who do, do they not read cooking blogs? Or just not comment? I don't know. All I know is, there is a huge world of women out there who write and/or comment on cooking blogs. And say things like "Adding this to the rotation!" And perhaps I should think twice about making fun of them. We're all just trying to get through life.
The New Yorker piece is full of funny bits, like this one:
Eco-tip! Use reusable bowls, utensils, and straws, but somehow never wash them because that wastes water. It's a real Catch-22, which is a book you know well since you had to teach it to your kids in remote school last year.
And this:
THURSDAY: You know those videos in which perfectly manicured moms use multicolored batter to make fun cartoon-character pancakes for their delighted children? You don't know how to do that. Sandwiches.
She also compares meal-planning to "playing a sonata on the deck of the Titanic," implying over and over that it is crazy to be doing this while the world is falling apart. And yet, people get hungry. Little, growing people. And you have to feed them. And it's (slightly) easier to do that if you plan ahead and have the right ingredients in the house to make the meals that you've planned.
And eventually, despite your best intentions, you might end up with a rotation.
And then I lost my mind.
The Day of the Dead is not the same thing as Halloween. Halloween is supposed to be a day when spirits can cross over into the world of the living, but I've never heard that you're likely to see a ghost on the Day of the Dead. But I started watching for Chester's ghost. I became convinced (sort of convinced) that the ofrenda would draw him back to us, that I would look up and he would be there, back with us.
On, I think, November 1st, I was petting Sillers in bed and I thought I heard a cat growling (not the Baby Kitty). But Chester never growled -- he was mute.
I cleared off my bedside table so he would have room to jump up on it, as he always used to do.
He didn't come back. Or if he did, I didn't notice.
Just when I think I'm totally over his death, I realize I'm totally not.
But that's all over now. I've put away the food and water dishes, though his picture and the flowers are still on the table. If I put the flowers outside they'll freeze.
It's November.
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