Home, I followed my roasted tomatoes routine: chunked three pounds of them, added the chopped onions I had in the freezer, plus some garlic, olive oil, and Italian seasoning, then popped two glass containers of them into the oven. Here's the finished product:
Through the day, at various times, I talked to:
Stella--
doesn'tsetfootoutsidethedoorandwatchestelevisonallday--oh, my!
Gail--
followsheregularroutineofwalkingandbiking--oh,good!
D.D.* Ellen--
plannedtomakeablackbeanstewtorelieveherstresss--oh, yes!
my friend, Marge, back in Jersey--
onhospiceandsadlydepleted--oh, sob!
my friend, Aline, back in Jersey--
hernephewwiththevirusisrecovering--oh, joy!
my friend, Noreen--
languishingathomewithherdog--oh, woof!
Betty--no, I can't make some silly comment about her.
I also called my paternal-side cousins, John in Pennsy, and Marifran, in Ohio, but their message machines were on (where in the world could they be?). I again contacted, by web site and phone, that crappy excuse for a company, Bank of America, trying to change my rewards category. I finally made an appointment to see somebody at the branch office today, but I doubt if they're actually open; I'll check before I go.
For dinner, I had a big bowl of cauliflower, half of a spaghetti squash, and some meatballs I found in the freezer. I don't eat red meat as a rule, but these were small and I wanted to get rid of them.
*Darling daughter
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