My dance card is empty this weekend. I’m thinking Miss Gracie and I might just go for a ride down cape. That means traveling on the inside lane so I don’t miss anything. It would be nicer if the sun stopped playing peek-a-boo, but it will be warm, close to 50˚, so I’ll take that as compensation. Last night it rained again.

I never cooked when I was a kid. I never baked a thing. My junior year of college I had an apartment, and my roommate knew how to cook, good thing too as we had decent dinners most nights. If she wasn’t there, Dinty Moore beef stew was my back-up dinner. I ate a lot of beef stew. It was a similar lifestyle my senior year but with different roommates. None of them could cook either. We were more like seagulls eating whatever we could find in the fridge and the cabinets. Dinty Moore was a feast.

I became a really good cook, not bragging, just reporting. When I have friends over, I am willing to be daring so I try new recipes. My favorites are foods from other countries. I figure I am expanding my own and my friends’ palates. It has been a while since my last dinner party, and I’m thinking of having another, an eclectic buffet of foods from a variety of countries. The planning is fun, and I always have a flow chart.

I have to sew on a button today. That is my one sewing talent. I sew other things by hand, like seams or small holes, but they never look good, and I usually jab myself a couple of times. The seams tend to buckle, for want of a better word, and where the holes were are still apparent even after the stitching. My friend sewed curtains for my bathroom using my African cloth. The curtains are beautiful. I am in awe of her talent.

I am a great duster, and I wield a mighty mop.