Today was meek and mild. I spent time with a wonderful family friend who is at the age where she could use some help. It's so pleasant to be with her. She's one of those people who rides the waves of life well, and her life has been one big tsunami, so to speak. I really admire her indomitable spirit and her old-fashioned manners and graciousness. When we were riding in the car to her appointment she said, I like being with you, you make me feel good and safe. I thought that was sweet and amusing, and it reminded me of something Annie the cook had said about me years ago. So I asked, Do you remember Annie? Of course she did, she had eaten Annie's Famous Leg of Lamb (still talked about by anyone who was lucky enough to taste it), confessing she had made an embarrassment of herself, Annie's cooking was so good. I continued, Annie said I was like the balm of Gilead. This friend looked at me so surprised and asked, Why?, did she think you were fiery and crackly? Now I'm looking at her surprised so I repeated myself, Balm of Gilead. She said, OH!, did you say B-A-L-M? I thought you said B-O-M-B, the BOMB of Gilead. Listen, it was pretty funny, I have to tell you.

So, we get to the doc's office and have to wait an hour. I mentioned that my niece had made First Chair Violin in the District All-State Competition. My friend looked at me. Allstate?, she asked? Oh dear, she said, I had so much trouble with Allstate. And she did, in an accident from several years ago. She was so relieved to hear that All-State was not Allstate and that Allstate did not sponsor All-State. At least that's what I led her to believe. Now I'm all confused. What do I know anyway?

Since funny things, and things in general, happen in 3's, I anticipated the punchline. Sure enough. I said, Wow, your hair is such a pretty color. She said she hadn't had her hair colored in 30 years because the last time she had it dyed the hairdresser put her under the dryer and it got scalding hot but she didn't say anything, she sat and burned quietly. She just sat there to The End. And The End result of that was her scalp was fried and she had to have spots surgically removed. But what got me, is the same thing would have happened to me!!! My friend and I are TOO meek and mild. My whole head could have gone up in flames and I'd sit there smiling and nodding, not wanting to put anyone on the spot, not ruin their day. I've been in many situations where I've suffered in silence, like when the Dead Sea people buff my nails to the finish and it starts burning because they are on a joyride. "Just Grin" is my motto. Or the time the pedicurist "massaged" my legs. She was a little Asian gal, but her finger strength was unequalled. She was KILLING me, but I didn't pipe up, Could you kindly stop, it hurts? Oh no, Take the Torture. When I got home I took a look-see. I kid you not, right above my ankles, all the capillaries were busted, it looked like well-veined red marble or a fine red tassel spread out. Should have marched right back there on my damaged ankles and demanded my big bucks back. Boy, what is wrong with this picture? Where's my gumption? Why don't I holler something like, KNOCK IT OFF, YOU IDIOT, OR I'LL CHOP YOUR BLOCK OFF! See, that's why, I don't know the middle ground approach, do I?

Then I read something in reference to global warming that amused me: Steve Ellis of Taxpayers for Common Sense said, "Congress should be shaking the couch cushions looking for change, rather than spending cash for everybody to go to Copenhagen." Yeah, that's right, they went and partied on your and my dime. But I loved the picture in above quote. I love it when people paint a picture that hits the nail on the head.

Back to pot roast. It went something like this. Of course CDW had brought to my attention once again that the meat must be patted dry before browning. Not only that, but I wrote in giant pencil letters, PAT MEAT DRY, right on the top of the recipe, so I couldn't possibly neglect this step upon which the whole result hinged. In fact, it even tells you in the recipe to pat the meat dry (see, things in threes). I told her, If I forget to pat my meat dry, just shoot me. Well, I start gathering what I need for the recipe . . . the phone rings. Deal with that. Regain my concentration . . . the phone rings. Drat! Back on task . . . knock on the door. I have visitors! EGADS! So, with all the distraction, trying to converse and cook, the next thing I know, I'm chucking my chunks of beef into the frying pan, one, two, three! Oh, HARK! I never patted them dry. I do a tizzy dance right on the spot. I expect to hear a shot ring out. It really is too late to retrieve those hunks, I do have my limits, so I'm left with patting the remainder dry. Have to be content with that. Hardly.

Then the recipe called for 1 medium herb bouquet garni, where you get to wrap a variety of herbs and smashed garlic and jazz in cheesecloth and tie it up and throw it in the pot. Yeah, right. You can BE SURE that my cloves and rosemary, etc., did not suffocate in cloth but rather got to swim freely in the murky waters of wine, beef broth and tomatoes.

Well, then I don't think I want to make mashed potatoes, too much work, plus, we had them the last two times stepson came over. So I say, Rice. Not long ago I threw out a half used bag of rice because it was many moons past the Best By date. Didn't feel like sewing bean(rice)bags either. So, I have another opened bag in the fridge. I'm afraid to look at Best By date, but I do. Best By: 22Jan10. WHEW! Close call! We finished the leftovers tonight, so that was directly under the wire.

Then I opened fridge to get cabbage thinking cole slaw would be the right touch with pot roast. Then I spy the broccoli I bought the other day when I bought the roast. Phooey! Well, when I bought the cabbage that morning, I also bought cauliflower because, you know, it looked so fresh. But I had forgotten I had broccoli sitting at home. Just recently I decided that each week we must have either broccoli or cabbage or cauliflower, good little roto-rooters. Well, dopey me, now we have all three in one week (see, things in 3's). This is exactly what happens every time you don't STICK TO YOUR DAILY GROCERY LIST and only buy what you need for THAT day -- Trouble In KEMVILLE.

But when my stepson pronounced the roast, Melt-in-your-mouth, it was all worth it. I'm telling you, that young man has really turned out nicely. He's my new favorite person, starting at Christmas when he gave me Wizard Chop. And he has also started writing his thank you notes without harassment. WOW! Take heart everyone!

BTW, when I had leftover pot roast tonight, I swallowed a whole clove.

I leave you with CDW'S latest BOB, Bits Of Brilliance:

KEM Dearest,
Yes, how do those women who work come home and make a meal from scratch? I just read in the Burlington paper this week about the Cook of the Week. She has worked some 20 years in Chapel Hill (30 minutes from Burlington says KEM-In-The-Know, KEM used to live in Burlington) and has come home every night and made a fabulous meal for her son and husband. They rarely go out to eat. She works with fellow nominee, Patricia (remember Eric and Patricia from years ago? [yes, KEM certainly does remember her, she's a lot of fun])...both women got raves from their husbands how they work all day and then come home to make super-duper gourmet meals like Horseradish-Crusted Tuna with Soy Ginger Glaze and Wasabi Aloili....whaaaa? Mouth gaping open with rather dumb look on my face. How the heck do they do such things? I am in the same boat as you...I'm here all day... and can barely pull off a meal of leftovers! :)
OK...must hear about your roast beef meal...and how it smelled and tasted.
Working on the last teacher luncheon details today...tomorrow will be my last duty at Eastern for awhile. :)

Horseradish-Crusted Tuna Envy LOVE,
CDW

CDW slays me. She acts so pitiful and yet she can pull off these extravaganza luncheons for the teachers where her children go to high school, fully decorated according to theme and everything, every week, it seems. They're the talk of the town, I'm telling you. However, I, in my friendly duties, have persuaded CDW that she must give up the luncheons and throw her mighty efforts behind her daughter's upcoming wedding. I've told you how brilliant are the bouquets she made up for the wedding party. CDW is pure Brilliance.

Oh, one last thing. Eth-Val-Toad and I are getting together tomorrow. She has homemade from scratch cupcakes awaiting me -- she doesn't have to ring twice. We discussed the time I should arrive. Well, cupcakes are best taken in the afternoon. Not that that matters since I rarely roll until noon anyway. So I suggested I would come to her house around 1:00-ish, mighty early, but the cupcakes beckon. She wanted to know if 1:00-ish might mean I come at 12:30, perhaps. Perhaps not. I explained that in KEM'S Book of Definitions "ish" means to the right of the hour, never to the left.

I'll bet that old Patricia makes 10 bouquet garnis every night, and in cheesecloth, too. Well, tra-la, I don't even like gourmet food, it tastes like After Shave. Give me ordinary common-sense meals every day of the week, 3 times a day. So there. Besides, my darling OK friend sent me a recipe today where you make little individual potato gratins. It is sliced potatoes, green onion, Swiss cheese and heavy cream. Now that's what I call the salt of the earth kind of FOOD. You make them in muffin tins, just layer, cover with foil and bake at 375*, then tip out. And rather than call them gratins, I think I shall call mine Piles of Potatoes, Two Each. Just like I call Pot Roast, Pot Roast, and never Julia Child's Beef Bourguignon, which I can't even pronounce --trying to roll that off my tongue would be an act of futility.

Bitter herbed KEM who needs the cupcakes to sweeten her up