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sign

Now I really don't think this means we are headed for world peace, I just can't see that happening any time soon.

No, I think it's a wave from the Great Peace Sign God, a wave to me as I start my journey back to my hippie roots.

Well, a wave right back at ya, Great Peace Sign God! I'm happy on my way.

-Patty, retired and picking up where I left off in 1967

(Note that Great Chicken God also spoke to me.)
]]> public http://www.pfeist.net/blog/index.php?itemid=72 Fri, 4 Jun 2010 03:42:12 +0200 http://www.pfeist.net/blog/index.php?itemid=71 familiar, talks in cat tongues. Like a talkative woman she keeps up a constant chatter of different meows and arumphhs when she is up and about. Over the years (6? 7?) I have unconsiously learned her language and understand her many moods and wants.

Except last night. In the middle of the night I went downstairs for a glass of water. Halfway back up the stairs I hear the soft padding of kitty feet going down the stairs. As we pass I hear a soft, whispered, monotoned meow.

I think it was a quiet recognition of two souls passing in the night. But I'm not sure, the whole incident might have been a dream. Cats don't know that they have souls. (Do they?)]]> public http://www.pfeist.net/blog/index.php?itemid=71 Sat, 27 Mar 2010 20:13:57 +0100 http://www.pfeist.net/blog/index.php?itemid=70
]]> public http://www.pfeist.net/blog/index.php?itemid=70 Thu, 11 Mar 2010 19:23:02 +0100 http://www.pfeist.net/blog/index.php?itemid=69
Last night I sat at my computer and pressed play on a song on an album I'd just downloaded. Within 30 seconds I knew I'd listen to that song many times in the future and enjoy it each time. New music, new pleasures to look forward to.

5:45 am this morning It's bitter cold out but the three of us decided to go out anyway. Snow was everywhere. The light from my headlamp touched the snow on the ground, on the weeds, and threw back glittering lights, so surprising, so beautiful that I was amazed I didn't go out every cold snowy morning with the dogs. Surprises to look forward to.

Later this morning The new song came on while I was on the ellipticals and I was so glad that I had a excuse to jump around to the beat. I closed my eyes and enjoyed.

Late morning Laying in a folder at work is the Intent to Retire letter I had written last Friday. A big step. Is it really time? Am I really ready to leave this comfortable path?

Yes, let's go. I took the letter over to the office.

Yes! Freedom to come. And the new path is sure to hold simple pleasures and little surprises and moments to savor and plenty, plenty more.
eighty

(and thanks to Citizen Cope)]]> public http://www.pfeist.net/blog/index.php?itemid=69 Thu, 11 Feb 2010 03:08:31 +0100 http://www.pfeist.net/blog/index.php?itemid=68 public http://www.pfeist.net/blog/index.php?itemid=68 Tue, 13 Oct 2009 14:23:27 +0200 http://www.pfeist.net/blog/index.php?itemid=67
Ahead is a sign, looks like a "lost pet" sign.


sign ahead


Oh, what is this? Someone lost their pet . . . Chainsaw! I have no idea what to make of this. Onward.

lost chainsaw

Fox pulls on the leash. Yuck, he is rolling on something. Fox goes into a trance.

Fox in trance

Looks to be a snake, very dead. Probably killed by a car. (Or maybe a Chainsaw?)

snake

On to the cow pasture at the fork in the road. In the past, we have noted upside down boots on the fence posts. We note a new addition today. Clueless as to what this is all about.

boots

teapot

Facts, these photos record facts from this day's walk. Sometimes truth is stranger than fiction.
]]> public http://www.pfeist.net/blog/index.php?itemid=67 Tue, 14 Jul 2009 19:56:49 +0200 http://www.pfeist.net/blog/index.php?itemid=66
I shrug off my wet clothes and decide dinner comes first. I have no ideas. But I had carried in armfuls of fresh vegetables and they were strewn untidily about the kitchen. No order in this house at all. Soup, that's it. Let's make a soup.

Shallots first, shallots are always first. I heat some olive oil in a good small pot, chop some shallots, and dump them in. Next, leeks and fennel. The way leeks are put together fascinates me, the green and white in the rings are so pretty. Fennel, what an aroma even chopping it! They all go into the pot. I put another saucepan on the stove to boil some water to peel some tomatoes. (This soup is for me, and the extra step to remove the peels seems critical to the taste of the soup.)

What for the stock? Maybe chicken, maybe fish. I clamber down to the basement freezer to see what lurks there. Fish stock, good, it will microwave up fast. Do I have a couple scallops? No, but some shrimp, that should work. Back upstairs to nearly carmelizing shallots-leeks-fennel, into the microwave with the stock. Into the boiling water with the tomatoes.

What else? I have a sweet potato, why not? And a yukon gold, and some carrots. The stock, tomatoes, potatoes, and carrots all go in the pot. Seems lacking, so I chop a little parlsey and add it. Now, off to deal with the gallons of water rushing into the cisterns. Wrench in hand, I go out into the rain to work on the downspouts and leave the soup gently simmering on the stove.

A little later, thoroughly wet, I have to change clothes again. But the soup, the soup smells incredible! I make a salad of young greens topped with a little feta, proscuitto, zucchini, and the pretty radishes I found at Whole Foods. The soup needs a little something, so I shake in cayenne pepper and grind in black pepper and add some salt. I gather a couple shrimps and mix them with fresh cilantro. They won't go in until the last few minutes. I toast a couple slices of como bread and melt some cheese on them.

I look around and decide all is under control. Ah, now I can relax. I put the shrimps in the soup, pour a glass of wine and grab the salad. The dogs and cat and I gather on the couch. Sigh. I pick up the remote, wow, I actually get to hold it and choose my own channels! The stove and blankets warm us up, the rain beats down, the TV mumbles quietly. My salad is wonderful.

But the soup, the soup is perfect. Just perfect. Somehow I came up with just the right combination. I take a big whiff of the bowl of soup in my hands, then enjoy each spoonful, interrupted only by sips of wine, bites of bread, and pets for the menagerie on the couch.

Home, home again.

soup
]]> public http://www.pfeist.net/blog/index.php?itemid=66 Sat, 18 Apr 2009 17:19:08 +0200 http://www.pfeist.net/blog/index.php?itemid=65 my mother was like.

La Verne Feist
October 25, 1916 - March 19, 2009

]]> public http://www.pfeist.net/blog/index.php?itemid=65 Thu, 19 Mar 2009 20:38:25 +0100 http://www.pfeist.net/blog/index.php?itemid=64 the dogs and I and the full moon
I discovered
my moonshadow can dance.]]> public http://www.pfeist.net/blog/index.php?itemid=64 Thu, 12 Mar 2009 08:21:29 +0100 http://www.pfeist.net/blog/index.php?itemid=63 rows of bars]]> public http://www.pfeist.net/blog/index.php?itemid=63 Thu, 12 Feb 2009 19:14:23 +0100