In which tiny little nasturtium leaves inspire me

Well, damn. I’m in a bad mood today. Last night my trio of men pissed me off, Ernie got mad at me, and my buttermilk brined chicken was not a success. This was disappointing as it was a last minute trial before doing the same with the turkey next week. It was not a great evening. They say not to go to bed mad but sometimes you just have to go to bed.

Dragged myself out of bed this morning after reading too long and talking to Hattie. I did the exercise bike as I’ve been doing every morning. I know it helps but it hasn’t helped with walking strength as much as I hoped. Ernie made me a dry chicken breast sandwich on toast and I sat down to peruse turkey recipes. I don’t know what the hell is wrong with me. How many turkeys have I made? Hmmm. I started cooking Thanksgiving in the late 80’s. Hell, I’ve probably roasted some 40+ turkeys but I still worry and fret and then experiment. Sometimes successfully, sometimes not.

Good Lord, I wonder how many chickens I’ve roasted.

Ernie’s at the store picking up what we forgot yesterday and then I’ll try making my gravy base today. And I’ll probably look at some more turkey recipes.

I can’t be completely negative though because I looked at my little vase of nasturtiums that Owen had picked for me and while the flowers are starting to go, it also has shot up the tiniest little nasturtium leaves. It does my heart good. If they can do that then I should be able to conquer my grumpiness.

Oh, and the balsams are here!

Onward.