I jinxed myself for boasting about my monster petunias. The thunderstorm we had the other night left one of my petunias flattened in areas, and it looks droopy. She looks half her size. The other one came out of the storm unscathed.
This petunia is fantastic, funny it was the one that took a long time to come back after the journey home back in May.
I read up, and itâs recommended to leave the petunia be and trust it will come back. I tried fluffing her up, which is exactly what the articles said not to do. Crap!
The soil was very moist, but the leaves look like they need water. I sprayed the petunia with a fine mist this morning.Â
So now, besides verbally encouraging Petunia, watering her, and maybe doing a little reiki, I will let her be. Fingers crossed, she rebounds; silly as it sounds, if she doesnât, Iâll be heartbroken. đÂ
Photo credit Normandie Kitchen. Professionals making kofta kebabs.
I may be going out on a limb here, but when people hear the word shish kebab, they think of thin skewers with chunks of beef with peppers, onions, and other veggies. Am I right?Â
I watch a lot of international cooking and traveling programs on TV. There are so many different series and shows to watch itâs staggering. I love the ones that showcase street food around the world. Some shows focus on the street food vendors and people who work at hawker stands for generations.Â
Watching shows about cooking and different cultures inspires me to do research and search for recipes. Next, I decide what Iâd like to try making, then hunt down the ingredients Iâll need. Sometimes I need to invest in kitchenware goods.
I made chicken shawarma a couple of months ago and wrote about it on my blog. It was delicious and tasted very close to the shawarma I had in Montreal.Â
I wanted to make more Middle Eastern cuisine; this time I was going to make kofta. Kofta is a type of kebab with ground meat instead of chunks.Â
The direct translation of shish kebab is âshish,â which means sword, and âkebab,â which means meat. So meat cooked on a sword. How cool!Â
As long as there has been fire, people have poked holes in their food with whatever they had and cooked it over an open fire. Itâs the most primal way to cook.Â
Iâve made regular shish kebabs plenty of times; in fact, I did just a few Saturdays ago. The concept of kofta, forming ground meat on a sword or a one-inch wide skewer, intrigued me. I needed to make them.Â
We found the one-inch sword-style kebab skewers on Amazon. I read up on what to do, the next thing I had to decide on was what kind of kofta I was going to make.Â
Photo credit Normandie Kitchen. Cumin lamb kofta kebabs on left and pork with peanut sauce on right.
Almost every country and culture have its own versions of kebabs and koftas. I had to pick from Turkish, Persian, Moroccan, Lebanese, Indian, Pakistan. The list goes on and on.Â
Next, I had to chose what kind of meat I wanted to use. Ground beef, lamb, chicken, or pork. I picked beef. The herbs and spices used in the different recipes from country to country were similar yet very different. I finally picked a recipe and went with it.Â
I knew from my research that the meat should be mixed and chilled for several hours. The meat will adhere to the sword skewer easier if everything, including your hands, is cold.Â
The white specs are gluten free panko breadcrumbs, not fat.
I followed the recipe, and we fired up the grill. Marty helped me since it seemed to be a two-person ordeal, especially when we were making kofta.
We didnât initially lay the skewers on the grill grate because I wasnât sure if they would stick. However, we found out quickly that the meat almost fell off the skewers with no safety net over the hot coals. Shit!
We put the grill grate on the grill, and it worked like a charm. The aroma was so exotic and smelled delicious. Noah was here for Fatherâs Day dinner, watching everything take place.Â
Between you and me, I think he was unsure of what to expect and was dreading dinner. We decided if it sucked, I would make chicken.Â
We kept rotating the kofta to get an even cook on the meat. We didnât want to have them raw in the center or overcooked and dry. So we went with our gut when to pull them off.Â
Earlier in the day, I made a Middle Eastern potato salad which was very lemony. I also made whole roasted Moroccan carrots. I found hundreds of recipes for kofta dipping sauces but made a tahini yogurt one.
Noah didnât know what to make of the food. I put some meat on his plate and threw caution to the wind. Marty and I tasted the kofta and said, âWow! What a flavor punch in the mouth.â The kofta was still juicy and really delicious. The sauce I made complimented the meat beautifully.Â
The Moroccan carrots were also a home run. I will make this style of carrots from now on. I can already imagine all the different herbs and spices I could use to complement different proteins. Finally, the potato salad was meh. It was ok, but Iâd make something different next time, like jeweled rice or gluten-free couscous.
I watched Noah take a nibble. Then a bite. Then he took some sauce and another bite. This was my picky eater as a kid, so this made my heart very happy to see him eat the meal. After we were done eating, Noah said the meal was flavors he never experienced before and liked it. He was happy he got to try something new. Yes! đ
We had leftover kofta that Sam had the next day before his overnight shift at the hospital, and he liked it too.Â
Today I heated the leftover kofta, then thinly sliced it like gyro meat. Then, I made a wrap (gluten-free) with the meat, tahini sauce, thinly sliced baby cucumbers, and lettuce. It was even better than the original meal.Â
Marty said after lunch that this was not food you eat at home; it was restaurant or food truck food. That, my friends, is exactly what I was going for! âïž
The next time I make kofta, I will chill the meat mixture and put the skewers in the freezer for a few minutes to get them super cold. After that, they will go in the fridge until the fire is scorching, and we will use the grill grate right away.Â
We live in a food desert here in Southern Vermont with very few choices of ethnic cuisine. I love trying all different kinds of ethnic foods. Like everything else, if we want to try something, I make itâend of story.Â
Grilling season is upon us. I donât really expect anyone to go online and order sword skewers like I did to make kofta. ButâŠyou can make kofta patties like a burger and get the same flavor and idea.
If your family is courageous when it comes to food, or if you are sick of eating the same old shit, try it. As a side note, I wanted to include that every time I wanted to type âshish,â my autocorrect changed it to shitshow! LOL!
We havenât rented a house for a week down the Jersey Shore for 19 years. We used to rent a home on Long Beach Island, NJ, right in Surf City every July. My parents went in 50% for the rental cost, making it affordable for us since I was a stay-at-home mom. We would all stay at the house and, because my father was still alive, we all got along. They didnât like the beach, and we did, so we parted our separate ways during the day. At night, we would have cocktails and dinner together. Then we would sit outside for hours after the boys went to bed.
We didnât rent a place in 2000 since my dad passed away in April and I was pregnant with Sam; I was due in August. We did scrounge money together to rent the house again the following year. I was working for a caterer part-time and put a little money aside every week all year. Our spending money came from our income tax return.
We had a great time at LBI that summer, even though all of our hearts had a hole in them without my father. He did let his presence be known that he was with us anyway. He was so much fun in life, and the signs we got from him made us all laugh.
We never ate out the years we rented the house, the kids were young, and we really didnât want to spend a ton of money on going out. It would have been aggravating anyway since everywhere was jammed with families; the wait to get into most places was ridiculous. It was more enjoyable eating on one of the houseâs decks; the kids could play after they ate and not have to sit still so and we could enjoy our food. Our kids were never allowed to get up from the table in a restaurant or bother a bunch of other diners.
Oh my heart every time I look at this picture. My dad would have loved spending that week with the boys.
We brought groceries from home mostly for the kids, and we shopped each day at the corner store, butcher shop, bakery (we werenât gluten-free then), seafood market, and pizza places. I loved to cook back then, and the kitchen was fully equipped, along with a nice grill.Â
One morning when Marty and I walked to the bakery searching for the pretzel rolls we loved, we saw they had a bruschetta topped pizza crust. It was different than regular pizza. It was pizza dough baked in Sicilian style and was topped with olive oil, bruschetta topping, and pecorino Romano cheese. It was to be eaten at room temp. It was so good! I think we got it twice that week. I didnât think I wouldnât be able to find it anywhere again. It was so juicy and flavorful.Â
That was the last year we could afford the house we rented for years. We were priced out by all the New Yorkers that flooded LBI, and the rent tripled in price. We were saving to buy a house and didnât want to spend that much money; it was the end of going down the shore. Hotels near the beach were even further out of our price range. âčïž
Before we had to go gluten-free, I would look on the menu of every pizzeria to try to find that bruschetta pizza, but I never saw anything like we had from the bakery. I never bothered trying to duplicate the bruschetta pie since gluten-free pizza crust sucks. It took us 9 years to finally master a good pizza dough, so I decided to try tonight.Â
I made a batch of pizza dough and rolled out one of the dough balls; I put it immediately on a sheet pan. I let it rise, covered with a towel. Meanwhile, I made the bruschetta topping and garlic herb oil to put on the dough while it baked.
After I made the bruschetta topping, I let it sit for a bit, then tasted it. Boom! It tasted just like the topping I remembered. I was halfway there. When the dough was ready to bake, I poured the garlic, herb, olive oil on the dough, sprinkled a little Parmesan on it, and threw it in the oven.Â
When the pizza crust was done, I immediately topped it with the bruschetta topping and grated some pecorino Romano cheese on top. I let it sit for a few minutes so everything could come together.Â
I cut it into squares just like the bakery did. Marty tasted it first and said, âYouâre gonna love it.â I did love it. We both agreed that it tasted just like the one from the LBI bakery. Marty said he could see us having this a lot, especially when tomatoes are in season.
It was a perfect meal to have on the first day of summer. This bruschetta-topped pizza crust will always remind me of that summer at LBI. We really miss going down the shore for a week and the little house that was just a couple of short blocks from the beach.
I have lots of photos of the little beach house and LBIâŠ.I just have to find them.
This morning I made a quick coffee cake and ham, egg, and cheese cups for Sunday breakfast. Nothing fancy for Fatherâs Day, just things Marty likes, namely coffee cake. The egg cups were for me.Â
While I was making the coffee cake, I could hear Martyâs phone making notifications sounds. That sound is Facebook messengerâŠhe was wheeling and dealing again on Facebook Marketplace.Â
He came into the kitchen right after I put the cake into the oven and announced he made a purchase. No shit, did I call it or what?
I think I asked, âOh God, what is it? How much did it cost?â Thatâs my standard question when he buys something.Â
âItâs an activity for us.â âOh no, I donât like activities and games,â I told him. I hate playing anything with him because we are so competitive. He plays to win, and heâs a sore winner if that makes sense to anyone.Â
âWhat is it?â I couldnât even imagine what was going to come out of his mouth. âAn electronic dartboard from Germany. Never used. It keeps score, and the whole thing is in German.âÂ
Whew, that wasnât so bad. It was only $20 bucks. He reminded me that I like to play darts; ok, at a bar while drinking, I never played at home for fun before.Â
After we ate breakfast, we quickly got dressed and headed to Dorset, VT, to pick up the dartboard.Â
Afterward, we stopped at the Dorset Farmers Market and walked around playing tourists. We got to talk to a few vendors we know and checked out the market.Â
On our way home, a rescue tone went out. When Marty heard it, he turned on his lights and sirens and stepped on the gas. When I say lights and sirens, I mean it; his huge truck has a lot of them.Â
The crew needed an advanced EMT for the call and it appeared no one else was available.
I wasnât prepared for what happened next. As we started coming up on cars in front of us, they didnât pull over right away. It took some cars quite a while before they pulled over. One car actually passed a car that did pull over and sped upâŠ.until Marty hit every horn and light on his truck.
What was really scary was when the cars pulled over partially, and we had to go around the car with oncoming traffic headed straight towards us. It made me gasp every time.
Thatâs how it was the whole way from Manchester to Lake Shaftsbury. I kept my eyes covered, broke out in a sweat, and was a nervous wreck by the time we got to the park. Marty arrived at the scene just 2 minutes behind the crew.Â
I drove Martyâs truck home since he was in the ambulance with his patient heading down to the hospital. I came inside and laid down on the couch to literally chill out.
I knew before this ride I would never be a candidate to run on a rescue squad since I canât even look at an eyelash in someoneâs eye. Now I know Iâd have agita responding to every call.Â
Sam was awake (he works overnights and sleeps during the day) when I got back. I told him about my first rescue squad ride. He said it happens all the time. People donât move over. People donât care. I was stunned that it happens all the time. To him, it was the norm, and heâs responded to hundreds of rescue calls.Â
If the same people who didnât pull over right away had a friend or loved one that was hurt, sick, or dying, they would want the ambulance to get there as soon as possibleâŠ.right? Ugh.Â
This bothers me that my son and husband, their rescue partners, and everyone else in EMS risk their own lives to save others, and people canât pull the fuck over?Â
When Marty got home from the call, he and Sam had a big laugh at what a nervous wreck I was. So now I will be nervous whenever they respond to a callâŠbecause this is what they experience every time they go on a call. Yikes!
Thank you to all the EMS firefighters and rescue folks out there; stay safe. People need to pay more attention while driving and pull over as quickly and safely as possible. đđŒ
We have doggy doors on both our front and back doors. When we put them in Klaus was an active young dog. Him and Otto would charge through the doors at bullet speed.Â
These days Klaus isnât an active young pup anymore. He is such a sweet and loving boy but has gotten more stubborn and picky as he gets olderâŠand lazy.
After we got home from our farmers market, Marty was sitting on the front porch; Klaus sat there looking out the doggy door, deciding if it was worth the squeeze through the door.Â
Lazy boyâŠKlausie boy.
I wish I had a photo of when he is outside and sticks just his head through the doggy door. Heâs taking a peek at whatâs going on inside while heâs lying on the back porch. All I can think of when his head pops through the door is, âDoes this door make me look fat?â As if heâs trying on a pair of tight jeans.Â
He still loves playing ball and going for walks, but when it comes to anything else, he takes his sweet ass time deciding what heâs going to do. Klaus is a bulldog through and through. The one thing that he does do very quickly is shed; a lot. đ
Iâve written about food smell memories before, but the one that screams summer down the Jersey shore is sausage and peppers.Â
Whenever I smell sausage and peppers, I think of the boardwalk in Seaside, NJ. The delicious smell of sausage, peppers, and onions mixed with Coppertone suntan lotion takes me back.Â
I spent many summers down Seaside and walking the boardwalk. My friends and I would go to Seaside, smoke, drink, go to the beach, and walk the boards. It was always good timesâŠfun, sun, and boardwalk food.Â
Being gluten-free puts the kobash on eating sausage and peppers on a good Italian roll soaked with grease. Very sad and a major bummer. Like everything else, I make due re-creating delicious food memories.Â
I am not sure why people call it âsausage and peppersâ when onions are always in the picture. Hell, I do it too. I guess, like all other Jersey & NY lingo, it cuts down on the wordage.Â
Cutting down on wordage? Let me give you a few examples. âDdjaeetyet?â No, âDjew?â Did you eat yet? No, did you? I shit you not, itâs a real thing, and I still say it.Â
We all know âForgetabouitâ or âDontworrybouit.â Forget about it. Donât worry about it. âHowyadoin?â It can be how are you doing or how are YOU doing? Think of Joey on Friends.Â
âHowyadoin?â Is not a question, it is a greeting. No one really gives two shits how you are doing. Itâs like saying âSâupâ or hi.Â
Back to sausage and peppersâŠin the cold weather, I make mine in the oven. I make mine on the outdoor flat top grill just like the boys do on the boardwalk in the summertime.Â
The key to my sausage and peppers is that I marinate my peppers and onions with garlic, olive oil, kosher salt, and pepper. The salt in the marinate starts releasing the juices from the vegetables, softening them a bit before the cook.Â
Veggies and sausage becoming friends in the marinade.
Covering the sausage and veggies with a sheet pan on the flat top grill helps steam the veggies, so they cook quicker and not burn before they are done.
I usually parboiled my sausage. I know some of my Italian friends are shaking their heads, saying, â Whatdafaq?â I parboil it when I slice the sausage into pieces before putting them in with the vegetables to marinate. This is a hurry-up method, but it works for me.
Parboiling does remove some of the flavor and fat. Sometimes I fry it first, and other times I throw the sausage in the marinate raw. Doing it on the flattop goes fast, and I donât want to dick around worrying if the sausage would be cooked through.Â
Since I canât have my sausage and peppers on dope ass rolls anymore, I add yellow potato cubes. The same people are shaking their heads and think itâs sacrilege to add potatoes. But I happen to like them, so I put them in. âOh yeah? Your sistaâs ass!â Another favorite of mine.
People can fight about what you put or not put on your sausage and peppers. The purists will say nothing. Others will say yellow or spicy mustard. Some people add marinara sauce. I say no to that oneâŠbig time. I like yellow mustard. Itâs the needed acid that cuts through all the grease.Â
I only learned about how acid balances out a dish a couple of years ago when I watched on Netflix the show called Salt. Fat, Acid. Heat. It changed my life..seriously. Now condiments make sense and actually serve a purpose.Â
Last night I made sausage and peppers with garlic cheese bread. The guys could make sub âsamichesâ if they wanted to; I just ate mine on the side.Â
Will I make it to the Jersey shore this year? Iâm not sure. Can I eat the sausage and peppers of my food memories? NoâŠ.damn gluten. Can I make something that is a great runner-up? You bet your ass I can. If thereâs a will, thereâs a way.Â
If thereâs a will, thereâs a wayâŠlook at this flower seedling that has reseeded itself from a planter that hung above it last summer; up on a 6-foot high deck without any dirt or care. Iâve been watching it grow every day. I have to remember to tell everyone to not touch it, I want to see what happens. đ€
I used almond slivers instead of thinly sliced almonds since thatâs all I had on hand.
I had a nice dinner prepped for Sunday evening. I mise en place all the ingredients in the morning so dinner would be quick and easy later on. It was going to be a gorgeous day, perfect to be spent at the âpool.âÂ
I got a text from our chef friend Martin mid-afternoon asking us to come for dinner. As I mentioned before, Martin is a widow and doesnât enjoy cooking for himself like most people. Whenever he asks us to come, we always say yes. For me, itâs such a treat having someone else to cook, plus whatever he is making is something heâs been craving.Â
I decided to make Sunday dinner on Tuesday night. I was making grilled glazed pork tenderloin with wild rice pilaf along with green beans almandine. Why green beans almandine? Well, I felt like pulling out another lost old-school recipe.Â
Sunday nights dinner on Tuesday.
Green Beans almandine has been around since the mid-nineteenth century. It became a very popular holiday or dinner party side dish. All the white tablecloth fine dining restaurants had the dish on their menus as well.
Green beans almandine is basically green beans and toasted almonds. The correct name is almandine, but it was dumbed down in America and appeared in American cookbooks as almondine. Whatever!Â
Grilled pork tenderloin glazed in a sweet, balsamic dijon sauce with wild rice pilaf. The rice smelled incredible when it was cooking, Marty said it was making him drool smelling it.
Itâs such an elegant and simple dish. I wanted to share it with you since itâs almost green bean season. I looked at a bunch of recipes; some were good, some were very good, and some were bad.Â
ListenâŠI am not a food snob; frozen vegetables are fine for certain times and occasions. I use frozen peas all the time, but when writing a recipe for âdinner partyâ food, donât tell people to use frozen green beans. Capice?
Hereâs the recipe I used from the website A Beautiful Plate
Green Bean Almandine
 1 lb French green beans (haricot verts), trimmed
 2 tablespoons unsalted butter
 1/4 heaping cup raw sliced almonds
 2 medium shallots, finely diced
 2 medium garlic cloves, finely minced
 zest of one small lemon
 2 teaspoons freshly squeezed lemon juice
 kosher salt
 freshly ground black pepper
Bring a large pot of water to a boil. Season the water liberally with kosher salt (it should be very salty to taste). Salting the cooking water aggressively accomplishes two tasks: it ensures that the green beans will be seasoned properly inside and out, and also helps them retain their bright green color after cooking.Â
Blanch the green beans for 4 to 5 minutes, stirring occasionally, or until they are crisp-tender and slightly squeaky between your teeth. It is important that the green beans be slightly undercooked as they will be transferred directly to the skillet and will continue cooking during this time.
I hope if you havenât made or had green beans almandine in years, you put it on your make-it list this summer. If youâve never had it before, I hope you will try it. Old school food classics are that, for the very reason, they are delicious. They are just forgotten about.
Today was a busy one! We were in the production kitchen extra early today; we filled wholesale orders for deliveries today and tomorrow. We make our spĂ€tzle to order so when customers buy it at retail stores sometimes itâs only a few hours old, like today.
I made us a quick lunch, and we headed over to Saratoga to make a delivery downtown. The traffic was terrible. It seems they are tearing up every road along the way, just in time for all the summertime tourist traffic. Â
Downtown Saratoga was popping with lots of cars, people, and more traffic. Our luck, school was getting out, and we were either behind a school bus that stopped every ten feet or at every crosswalk with kids walking home from school. Poor kids, I thought theyâd be out for the summer by now.
We wiggle-waggled our way home going a different way, taking country roads with less traffic. We basically drove to Saratoga, made our delivery, turned around, and came home. It needed to be done, so now it is.
After we got home, I started going through our farmers market totes. Friday starts the Arlington Village Farmers Market right here in Arlington at our rec park. The market is from 4-7 pm. Itâs less than a mile from our house, less than 5 minutes away, so at least we donât have to travel far to this market.Â
Yesterday our Governor, Phil Scott, dropped all Covid restrictions and reopened our state. We are the first in the nation to have 80% of our residents vaccinated. Thank God!Â
For the first time since Covid started last March, we will be able to sample our spĂ€tzle again at the Arlington market. Yay! Our product speaks for itself when people try it, saving potential customers and us from our âSpĂ€tzle Spiel.â đ
I went through everything, restocked, and organized it all for Friday night. We have a second tote box for the Troy Farmers Market on Saturdays. We havenât gotten the ok to sample in NY yet, but fingers crossed it will happen soon.Â
The dogs have been fed, and I made myself a rum drink. We are sitting on the front porch just relaxing and enjoying the beautiful weather. There is a steady stream of ârush hourâ traffic going by. Itâs hardly traffic at all; just more cars than usual with people coming and going to work.Â
We moved to VT way back in 1989 to get away from all the NJ & NY traffic. Although still only a quarter as much traffic as NJ, a traffic-filled delivery run is a strong reminder of why we moved in the first place. We live here for a better quality of life, which we appreciate every day!Â
One thing I can tell you, even after living in VT for over 30 years, whenever I hear a horn beep, I still say, âOh, blow it out your ass!â You can the girl out of Jersey, but you canât take the Jersey out of the girl!
Kathleen and I had a Sahidi Sisters photoshoot last Wednesday; her coworker Karena is also a photographer and wanted to shoot dancers. I completely butchered Karenaâs name last week, so I apologize.
Karena sent us an email on Saturday morning with a whole slew of photos she took. I went through them quickly and found a few immediately that I loved.Â
Photo credit Karena Webber
The photos that I loved were ones when we were actually dancing or some that looked mysterious. We put all of ourselves out there when we dance, sharing everything we have, including our hearts; it was nice to see a little mystery in the photos.
Photo credit Karena Webber
I found the ones that focused on our faces or specific parts of our costumes some of my favorites. I loved the shots of us both of us holding a flamenco fan. I love flamenco dance and music. I tried studying it myself online, but I need a real teacher in person to really learn. Many of our dance moves come off flamenco dance, so it feels almost natural to me.
Photo credit Karena Webber
I laughed when I saw some of the photosâŠI am pretty tan, but not my belly. Karena offered to photoshop my belly and add a tan, but I didnât need her to do that; itâs life. Real-life photos of real people.
Photo credit Karena Webber
There are so many photos of Kathleen that I love; sheâs so photogenic! There are a couple of the two of us that I love too. Although, of course, I am always hard on myself and should have had better posture in some photos, the ones that focused on my whole figure werenât my favorite; at least I can accept thatâs how my figure is right now.Â
Photo credit Karena Webber
Returning to dance completely has given me my groove back. That little sass in my walk again and a big smile on my face! đ„°
End of the photoshoot. I love this photoâŠcheck out my white belly! đ Thank you so much Karena Webber
I love summer! Itâs my favorite time of the yearâway back when I spent countless days at the pool or the beach. When our boys were young, I took them almost every day to a pool, lake, or beach with Marty.Â
When I was young, I didnât have to readjust my schedule to make time for the pool or going down the shore; I just did it. No guilt. They were carefree summer days.
When I was a full-time mom, I did everything I needed to get done early in the morning, packed everything up, and we spent the rest of the day, sometimes until 6 pm, at the rec pool or lake. No guilt. Sort of carefree summer days, at least as carefree as a mother of two young boys could be.
A couple of years ago, I realized why I wasnât enjoying my summers anymoreâŠI didnât spend afternoons going to a lake, pool, or beach anymore since the boys are all grown up.Â
As I am older, I donât particularly appreciate swimming in lakes or riversâŠtoo many bugs. Lol. We donât have a pool, even though weâve considered getting one. We both know we realistically wouldnât use it enough with the short Vermont summers and many iffy weather days.Â
I now realize that Iâm not really missing the pool or lake; I am actually missing those carefree summer afternoons to relax in the sun and work on my tan. However, I still miss going down the shore and the beach a lot! Marty and I both do.
A couple of years ago, whenever I saw we were going to have a sunny & beautiful afternoon, I would plan on going to the âpool.â The pool was just a metaphor; it means I would sit in the sun and work on my tan, cooling off with a mister from the garden hose. Guilt-free.Â
Last summer, during the pandemic, I forgot about the âpoolâ since I wasnât in the mood to lounge around carefree all afternoon. I didnât care if I had a tan; it didnât matter. We did have a campfire every night, though, which was awesome. âCampfireâ was another metaphor for going camping.
This year I remembered my imaginary pool. I picked up right where I left off two summers ago. I put on some shorts and a bikini top, grab my towel, hose mister, stereo, and head outside. Carefree summer days!
âDoes anyone need anything before I go to the pool?â That is my way of telling the guys that Iâm off duty. I still get everything done earlier in the day, so I can at least get outside by 4 pm and stay at the âpoolâ until about 6 pm. Guilt-free.Â
Is it silly I say Iâm going to the pool? My imaginary pool is what has given me my carefree summer days back. Having somewhere to âgoâ inspires me to get stuff done and to relax and enjoy our short Vermont summers to the fullest. I invite Marty to come to the pool with me; he did on Saturday after the farmers market. Yes, he squirted me with the hose. LOL!