XXVIII

1. Hi, my name is Thelma and it has been fifty four days since my last Schmozzle. On the off chance that you were wondering that’s 1296 hours or 77760 minutes or 4665600 seconds. Whole lotta time, folks. Whole lotta time.
2. This may also be an opportune time to point out that recently I pulled a ‘Mom’. Essentially what this means is that I used a large, sharp knife to get something off a high shelf. My guess is that as she reads this she will give a half chuckle and say, ‘Yeah right!’ or ‘Thelma!’ in that voice that I can totally hear in my head right now.
3. When you read this post, I will be officially done the online course that started in March. If, at approximately 8:35PM EST on Wednesday, you heard a great whooping and hollering of delight but couldn’t identify the source, that was me. Mystery solved.
4. I love baked chicken samosas. They are delicious. I plan to find a recipe and learn to make them myself. I will share the recipe with you. You will make samosas and will then know exactly what I am talking about.
5. Len and I have decided that our queen-sized bed is no longer big enough. Since Brady died, Sacha has determined that she shall sleep with us each night. She starts off all sweet and cuddly up against my side. Half way through the night, however, Len and I are sandwiched onto a quarter of the bed whilst she blissfully spreads her tiny frame out across the rest of the bed.
6. And now, for a gardening lesson: those vegetables that grow beneath the soil need room to grow. Radishes, for example. Carrots… Cramming those seeds closely together and assuming that the lush green, healthy foliage that bursts forth is a sign that you shall actually harvest something edible: misleading. Sad but true, my friends.
7. Len and I are attempting to buy local from a farmer’s market a few blocks over. This past Saturday we wandered through, chatting with local farmers, perusing the delectable seasonal wares and making the occasional purchase. I scored a deal on a half bushel of ‘seconds’ peaches which I froze for delicious winter eating. Unlike the giant farmer’s market downtown, this small (but still decently sized) market doesn’t have a baker’s stand which, if you know anything at all about my love of food, is a very positive thing indeed.
8. I scratched and ‘dented’ a mosquito bite on my arm with such enthusiasm that I actually managed to bruise myself. Surprisingly, I’m no longer itchy. I did mention the bruise, though, right? And thus I shall leave you today: overflowing with sympathy at my poor, abused and discoloured arm.