Simply chop up the apples - I used Granny Smith, Gala & Macintosh - place in large stovepot, cover with water & simmer. Set timer as always so you won't burn pan bottom. It's usually done in about half an hour, by which time my entire breakfast was done - omelette with onion, toasted homemade challah twist w/poppyseed. I like fruit as dessert. I popped in a handful of frozen raspberries from the freezer. "Breakfast's ready!" I called to Scott. Mmmmm.
Worked very hard on Chapter 7 of my novel yesterday. In the winter I spend most of my time at home either in the warm kitchen or the warm downstairs where I have this new gas heater affixed to my wall. Problem is, it's as dark as Canada down there. It's like living in another house. My windows are those ice-cube-like blocks all along one wall so they let in only a modicum of light.
Yesterday I'm sitting working on the book & a shadow crosses the ice-block window. Can't rightly make out the shape. I'm sitting cross-legged on my bed huddled over the laptop & have to untangle myself to open the door & see who is preparing to abduct me. Ah! I'm looking square in the face of a squirrel. We stare hard at each other. He looks both wily & wise, not unlike an Italian grandmother. Will he perhaps shed his earthly guise & tell me his true mission?
Back to my novel. I put a one-page sex scene in there. It seemed to be right. I put on some Steve Roach atonal music to help me think, to move me forward, to give me hope, to give me courage, writing a book is hard. I spend time with my new character, a fellow from Ecuador like one of my brothers/law. But my Ecuadorean is decidedly NOT Hernan Roberto nor any other person I know. He is a handsome man with wide face and night-black hair fanned across the pillow when he falls asleep. I am pleased I thought him up. Pleased, that is, until until I saw his likeness on TV. Darn. Isn't there anything new, Ecclesiastes, under the sun? Read on....
In the middle of the night it's Pledge Week in Lehigh Valley. I lie in bed next to my gas heater turned to Panel One (out of five heating panels) and under 3 comforters & Pledge Week is offering Yoga for its viewers. How come I've never seen this man? What is his name? Not to worry, they repeat his name 10 times a minute. His wife's too. An odd looking couple that must be goggled immediately, whether or not you're wearing your contact lenses.
Rodney Yee, son of an American air force colonel! How can it be I've never heard of him. I lay awake thinking of Rodney Yee before I fall back asleep. He's 51 & is a former ballet dancer. I wonder to myself, Should Wiki have said "controversy about Rodney Lee" or "scandal." Well, I guess they chose the right word.
But lemme tell you something. It is nearly impossible to get out of here alive without having one or more scandals in YOUR name or someone you love.
I drove my sexy chapter over to Walter's. His tallstory apartment bldg towers in the neighborhood. We each read a copy. I must DEFEND it tonite online. Five others will read & critique it. It was the sex I was worried about. "I guess you know what you're talking about," said Walt, smacking his lips. "Yes," I said. Here is my philosophy, Dear Reader. No need to elaborate about your ability to write a good sex scene. A woman of my age is bound to have had sex at least twice in her life by now - 2 grown kids - wish I'd had more, kids, that is, not sex, well, yes, sex too. Where IS that boy?
Anyway, he said it was well done. That's all I needed to hear. Walter is a discerning man. He has photos of his girlfriend on the shelves and grows tomatoes on the balcony. He eats healthy and made me a dessert parfait with yogurt, Krazy Richard's peanut butter, dried cranberries, dried crystallized ginger from Trader Joe's, canned pineapples - and had me taste some cooked quinoa which I will hie to bye.
Then we went for a walk around the darkening grounds. Walter told me about the death of women he had loved and how he was entrusted to sprinkle their ashes across the river. He had with him the ashes of Florence, his greatest beloved, but when he came to the creek to spread her ashes, the creek near where they had lived together, he cried like a baby and could not give them away.
He is a good man, that Walter. I gave him a giant hug goodbye before I hopped into my Ford pick-up and drove away.
