Connecting with the past

The weather has changed. It is now officially  gross and muggy NYC summer.  

I had been itching to make a dress but I had too much work on my plate.  Today I scratched that dress making itch.

It's a cowl -front dress with six waist darts for shaping.

The fabric was purchased a couple of years ago from Kashi at Metro textiles. Kashi told me to buy this fabric, and I listened. It's a cool to wear rayon knit. When I bought the fabric I had been entirely in love with the print. I am slightly less in love with it now.  It is cool  and I can wear it and not wilt. If you want a diagram for cutting the dress just let me know.

This morning my husband and I attended the funeral of the mother of a friend. It was nice after the batch of funerals we had attended of people who had died far too young to be at the funeral of someone who had lived to be ninety five.

There were aspects of the death and of the funeral planning and the funeral itself that seem to have come out of the Keystone cops playbook. Oddly this bizzaro dimension of the end of this woman's life was oddly fitting.

My older son has entered a phase of life that requires the wearing of pressed dress shirts and trousers. I ironed a large number of both trousers and dress shirts in the gross humidity. I assume that this means that when I am old and doddery my son will put me in a nursing home with good arts and crafts.  I have already promised to make him beaded wax fruit to thank him.

And yes, I even cooked dinner. Idiot chicken, with Herbes Provencal and lime.

Baked rice and rye flavored with last week's chicken juice.

This next dish is not cooked by me, but simply warmed up, it's sliced corned beef with a honey mustard sauce. I do not plan to eat it, but I expect that the others at the table will.

I bought two batches of skinny asparagus. i will trim the asparagus and pour boiling water over it. that's all the cooking it should get and then top it with a tarragon flavored vinaigrette.

Dessert is just fresh litchis and cherries. Years ago one of my son's friends thought they were called leakies, as in, "Can I have some more leaky juice?" so that's what we call them around here.

Shabbat Shalom and stay cool.