Four of us had been planning to go to the library to see a program (impersonation) on Alice Roosevelt Longsworth today, then have lunch, but it came to naught.* I went to the Little Egg branch and they didn't have it scheduled. Found out it was in Stafford; went there to find it was filled. Dang.
Discovered the leeks I had bought the other day still in the crisper so, still on my crock pot kick, I cut them up, teamed them with broccoli, and added garlic. Put them in the refrig and will cook today. I actually had to go on-line to find out how to prepare them, as it's been years since I've had leeks.
Betty called and we'll get together today, after she drops her time sheets off at her (hospice) office.
* Speaking of "naught," my father may have been the last one in the world to use the word "ought" to mean "zero." Guess it was common in his heyday.
-
Had a delightful lunch with my new (Wellspouse) friend, Mary L. yesterday. No problem getting to TGI Friday's in Toms River--in fact, ...
-
Thursday, August 23: Lunch with the most recent gang of company was nice. Had the menu I planned and everybody seemed to like it; just serve...
-
Ellen scrambled eggs for breakfast, then she and I went to the meadow preserve and took a long walk. Here are some pics from that very enjoy...
2 comments:
Mimi, I'm guessing that my late father's use of "ought" as a synonym for zero probably postdates that of your father. In fact, I think I can remember my dad referring to Ian Fleming's fictional British Secret Service officer as "ought-ought-seven." I'm like him in a number of ways, not least of which is in my ability to "crack myself up" with extremely little humor. He used to do that, too. I can remember him deliberately mispronouncing words for the sole purpose of irritating my mother. One of his favorites for this was "misled" ... he'd say, "Dear, I think you've been missled." She always did have easily-pushable buttons.
That's a charming antecdote about you and your folks, Jim. I think my father was more the somber type. He was born in the nineteenth century--yes, really, in 1899--and died when I was only 13. I wish I had known him better.
Post a Comment