Boiled Swedes and Jammies
15 January 2002
I was looking at a webpage about Finnish recipes, and I found one that recommended that I serve the dish with boiled Swedes. Um. Boiled. Swedes? So I looked around and found a page that informed me that, "Swedes come from the same family as turnips and parsnips." Now, I've known some stoic Swedes. But that, that's taking it a little too far.
Turns out rutabagas are called "swedes" in some places. How odd.
You know what's even better than Unreasonably Good Pants? Really Comfy Jammies. One of my best Christmas presents this year was a Portuguese flannel nightgown. Before I got this nightgown, I would have said, "Who cares if it's Portuguese? Flannel is flannel." Evidently this is not the case. Evidently Portuguese flannel is the equivalent of Egyptian cotton: really, really, really good. Amazingly comfortable. Wow. Like being hugged by my jammies the whole time I'm wearing them.
The down side is that it's a good long time before I'm particularly willing to put my clothes on in the morning.
Mark's family is a No Jammies family. I don't mean that they sleep in the buff (although for all I know some of them might -- none of my business). I mean that they don't hang around in the morning eating breakfast in their pajamas, reading in their pajamas, doing the dishes in their pajamas...pajamas, in short, are for sleeping only. Different strokes, but I'd sure miss hanging around in my pajamas if I couldn't do it any more.
I keep trying to clean out my closets, and I keep succeeding to some small extent. The problem is, I keep holding onto clothes on the grounds that I might have to use them if I have to get a day job. I don't think I'll have to get a day job. But if I did, I'd have to dress like a business-type person again. Or somewhat like one, at least. Still. It seems silly to do this, to keep hedging this way, when I'd still have decent clothes to hold me over if I had to do this. I mean, it's not like I'm devoid of dressy and semi-casual clothing, she rationalized.
On the other hand, it would be one less thing on my to do list.
Jennifer asked me if I wanted to join the SF Bay Area Journallers 'burb, and so I did. They live here. As I said somewhere on my links page, Jennifer reminds me of one of my favorite cousins. That means that her journal almost always makes me smile.
Well. Stories to finish, slush to read, novels to edit, sick people to take care of. Much to do. (Mark is still feeling yucky but went to work anyway. Timprov is still feeling yucky but has managed to eat enough that I'm not fussing constantly.) We still have no phone service in the kitchen (because we have no splitter still), which means we don't hear the phone half the time. There's always something to worry about, if you're in that kind of mood. I'm in the novel editing kind of mood myself.
And the main page.
Or the last entry.
Or the next one.
Or even send me email.