Anniversary dinner

From Chef's Kitchen. R. had "Filet of Petrale Sole Madagascar," described as "rolled fresh sole with a cream cheese curry crab & shrimp stuffing - nutmeg bechamel over angel hair pasta." I was moderately tempted by the "Huckleberry Wasabi Ahi" until I was reminded that ahi is tuna, and I really dislike cooked tuna. So instead I had "Chantarelle Schnitzel," which was "sauteed fresh chicken breast breaded - fresh chantarelle, onion, tomato brown sauce." And the sauce had huckleberries too! The chantarelles were little and probably wild.

(I tried to make this post last night at 8:33 p.m., but LJ was in "read-only" mode all evening. Making the post today and back-dating it to then meant that it wouldn't show up in Friends View. So please consider this post as made last night.)

Quiet summer rain

The quiet rustles of light rain are one of my favorite sounds, especially when I'm inside and dry, and the rain is without. This week has been the first rain of consequence in 75 days, and it's been fun to have sky variety -- lots of clouds, more like spring or fall than summer. Tomorrow or so we return to sunny and low 80s.

A woman I know was telling me today about "hiding" during the summer so she can get her work done; she's preparing for a lecture in Germany next month. I think that hiding is not quite enough for me. I was thinking that I am just too willing to stop and smell the roses. It's not that I really procrastinate my projects; it's that I'm too pleased with any little bit of progress and willing then to set things aside a bit. Deadlines must help.

(When thinking up a title for this one, it complicated matters that I'd written about raindrops and roses without being in a Maria von Trapp frame of mind...)