last saturday in november.

Following an unconventional yet fun and satisfying Thanksgiving weekend (we visited Dad & Ellen and Grandma, but missed seeing a sick-y Mom), we're home on a cozy Saturday evening. While Rob played golf this afternoon, I napped and puttered -- the latter including putting up some outside lights and baking a pumpkin pie. Inspired by Ellen's use of candles and seasonal decor on their front porch, I picked up some artificial greenery and some huge red candles, which I assembled on the front porch using the pots that held summer flowers and fall mums, and the huge Ball jars I use for candles on the side porch. All in all, it looks pretty.

For dinner, we hopped into the Wayback Machine and dragged out the February 1997 issue of Bon Appetit. I subscribed to B.A. for years until I stopped (which makes publishers like me crazy), and I saved years' worth of issues and created my own index to recipes we'd tried and loved or dog-eared for future reference. Tonight's dinner is one of those oft-made recipes:

Fettuccine with Sweet Pepper-Cayenne Sauce
Bon Appetit February 1997 (marked with a handwritten note on the page: great!! 1/97)
3 Tbsp butter
2 large red bell peppers in strips
3 minced garlic cloves
3/4 tsp. cayenne
1 cup whipping cream (hi, Mom!)
3/4 cup chicken broth
3/4 cup shredded Parmesan
12 oz fettuccine
1 cup frozen green peas
1/2 cup chopped fresh basil

holiday baking.

I'm planning a bit of time off in advance of Thanksgiving, during which I aim to do some baking. I have an apple tart to take to Dad & Ellen's, and I made a batch of savory parmesan-hazelnut biscotti today to have with some wine pre-dinner at Mom's on Friday. I haven't had much luck with biscotti before, but this recipe caught my eye and it was a real success. They'll be lovely with the nice bottle of white wine I bought to take to Mom. I'm really looking forward to our holiday visits this coming week. I haven't spent much time with my family in the past 2 months (thanks, icky work schedule!), so this will be fun.

the best list.

Here's a new feature on mooth: the best list. The best of the best of the best of the best ...

Herewith, the first entry (we'll add more to the new list on the right-hand side of the page):

On the Best List/Music:

"More Than This" by Peter Gabriel

a very ordinary evening.

Rob is away for the evening on business (hi to you in Minneapolis, B!), so it's just me an Wig and the sucky Bengals game on TV. After a pretty tasty dinner (scrambled eggs, topped with the remains of my lentil stew and 2 pieces of toast), I've been paying bills, balancing my checkbook and feeling a bit sleepy around the edges. A tough workout and flurries outside the window are largely responsible for that.

Yay. Tomorrow's Friday, and I'm taking a half day off to putter (following a godawful H.R. meeting in the morning). On the menu for tomorrow when Rob gets home: Ina Garten's lemon roasted chicken and Moroccan couscous. Yum.

By the way, I did end up picking lettuce on Tuesday evening, after a hard freeze. That morning, it looked sad and frozen and I was afraid I'd lost it, but by the time I got home the sun had perked it up a bit and I cut the whole batch (about a row and a half of mixed variety) to bring in. We had some for dinner that night, and it was still sweet, crunchy and delicious.

blustery.

Lots of snow flurries today, and a cold wind. Lettuce is still thriving in the garden (for now); I should have picked when I got home, but it was too dark and cold. The orchid that enjoyed its summer days on the side porch is now on my office window ledge, where it's sending up its third (!) bloom stalk of the season.

november 16.

We woke to the faintest dusting of snow on the roof and a morning of freezing drizzle. It's the perfect day to stay indoors, make some soup (Lively Up Yourself Lentil Soup) for this week's lunches and watch football. Hardy Bengals fans next door got an 8 a.m. start heading for tailgating downtown; they were bundled up against the cold, but probably not against another loss. The flowering crabapple has nothing but the little red apples on its branches; the weeping cherry has wept its yellow leaves all over the yard. The lawn needs raking today, but the weather says, "Stay indoors, you."

mmm.

Rob just opened a bottle of Beaulieu Vineyard Georges de la Tour Private Reserve Napa Cabernet 2001. Oh. No. He. Din't.

one thing i've learned about myself.

I suppose that a growing sense of self-awareness comes along with adding more candles to the birthday cake. As I get older, I have a deeper sense of what makes me tick, how I respond to certain people and situations, what stresses me out and what makes me happy. So I've become increasingly aware of this fact: I. Simply. Can't. Sit. Still.

I don't know if I've become hardwired by years of working on deadlines, or if my need for order and organization compels me to keep a to-do list, or what. But I have this primordial need to be busy. Having an hour or three with nothing to do makes me batty. Sitting idly makes me nervous. While lots of people are totally content to just "hang out," I get a bit stir-crazy.

(See the post about taking a day off to putter as a case in point. I mean, really: Who takes a much-needed day of R&R and spends the whole time vacuuming baseboards and sweeping the garage? I needed a massage AFTER my day of rest.)

Yesterday, I spent three hours on the couch reading the Sunday New York Times, working the crossword, watching football, talking on the phone (and, yes, napping).

You know what? I kinda liked it.

wrigley's warhol moment.

At HOW's Creative Freelancer Conference back in August, I met a designer and illustrator named Kristin Bowen, who has a side gig called DogHouse Custom Pet Portraits. When she handed me her business card, I knew I'd have to work with her on Wrigley's portrait. I got a proof this week and was thrilled; we're having a print made to frame and hang alongside all our other poster art at home.

things are good.

I took Friday off to ... putter. I puttered around the house as if it were my job. Having lost several weekends to travel lately, my putter gauge was on E. So I puttered. The house has never been so orderly.

This morning, we took Wrigley to Findlay Market for probably the last time this season. EVERYONE wanted to make friends with him, and lots of other market regulars stopped by to scratch. The Apple Guy forked over a bit of his blackberry scone for Wigs, and a nice lady offered up a bit of her fresh bread after the boy stuck his nose in her market basket.

Today was a gorgeous Indian Summer day, perfect for a round of fall golf. Now, we're well into a bottle of wine and a hearty fall dinner: roasted pork loin with roasty apples and red onion and (my fave) mashed potatoes.

I love Rob and Wrigley.