.
First, there was putting up the guacamole. Not a real time
spender. But time spent none the less. Then there was getting the
spices, salt, and else, dicing the fennel seed a bit, then mixing. I had
two packs out, but only had a bowl big enough for one package. Hmm,
actually I had a bigger bowl, was just too tired to think by that point.
Still, I got it going. Dug it, one package at a time. Then, after
each package was mixed, I started making balls of the stuff and setting them
in one of the wrapping papers. That... took a bit. Then I realized
I had to... do something with them all. Couldn't just freeze them, they
would all stick together! Ugh.
Parchment paper, in strips. Wide enough to smash the balls into patties,
then with a layer between each other, and the outside. Eneveloped so as
to not stick to... anything? One can hope. I did two patties per
strip of parchment. Then put each self-contained pounch of two into a
small plastic baggy, quart? No, sandwich sized. How many? I
can't be sure, now. I put most of them in the freezer, leaving two
packages (of two each) in the refrigerator.
If I make it to church tomorrow, I will have two of them, with eggs, on the
griddle, when I return. If I miss church, then I will just have them
when I wake up.
So tired. It took a lot longer, and more energy, than anticipated.
Sometimes yes, sometimes no. This was a definite extension of
anticipation. Still, it is done. It is hitting 23:14. Way
late, for bedtime. I did eat well tonight. And am set to eat well
for a while. I have groups of good stuff. Frozen, fresh, ready,
and waiting.
I didn't get oranges, and just didn't think lemons would work? Well,
they probably would have, for zest. And I didn't have fresh (or any)
cilantro for the guacamole (not from not looking, it just wasn't
avaialble). Still, it is what it is, and isn't, wasn't, and probably
won't be, too bad for not having this or that, exactly. I may add lemon
zest to the patties tomorrow. Curious, now.
Oh, but... I... wonder. Perhaps she can't get in, see? I just...
get the feeling that she is saying something. Nothing I can do for her,
or about it. Everything has to end someday. Even this something
nothing she has been... enjoying, mostly, for some time. She knows when
I wrote about her. Good or ill, even sometimes when I denied it.
Hmm. Yeah. Oh well.
Truth is...
Even so... fond memories. Difficult ones too.
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