I went to Fort Wayne today, dropped someone off at a clinic door and waited in the parking lot. I do this whenever we come here because this is the view looking east: Camera looking east.

The temperature was right at 50 and the sun was in an out. I was wearing a sweater, a long skirt and boots and getting outside of the car and just breathing and seeing was a treat.

Were I to look south, I would see an enormous low area of grass; it’s a flood plain and I didn’t take a picture today for no reason, other than that the person’s appointment was quite short.
I did have time to take a selfie: I call it Camera looking west.

We came straight home – no GoodWill – because she was feeling poorly. Now that’s a word I haven’t really used before. My paternal grandmother used it occasionally; I wonder if it is one of those words that pop out of your genetic code when older age turns them on. It kind of makes me shudder to realize I used it. Who knows what is going to start spicing up – or down – my language.

Oh, yes, I don’t remember if I mentioned I commissioned a scarf to be knitted, only it turns out it is called a shawl. See, how it creeps up on you. Well, at least you don’t need teeth for peanut butter, although I’m not certain about the extra crunchy.

Fall break ends tomorrow so you may hear screaming and complaining, but it won’t be from me. You might hear, “I don’t know where YOU put your backpack.” That would be me.

I was at the LaGrange house, looking around for something and I noticed – after heaven knows how many years – that this wall mounted cookbook-based bookcase had a row of  little drawers along the top of it.  (I’m betting it was the cookbook thing that had me shying away from that piece of furniture.)

Anyway, I opened them, And found recipes . . . of course. In my mother’s handwriting and numerous clippings from newspapers. No wonder I like restaurants with honky-tonk or roadhouse themes – eating in a nice dining room with four star food is, I whine, like eating at home at Mother’s . . . every day of the week.

I believe I was dreadfully spoiled and did not appreciate my mother in this area for a long, long time.

But, on with the drawers: Not only were there recipes, but an Erma Bombeck (remember her) article on too much cleanliness, as in housekeeping. I also found two snapshots from 1949 of Daddy, Great Aunt Sara and me and one of someone who I think is in my family but from a long, long time ago and with an indiscernible background. Come to think of it, the 1949 pics are from a long, long time ago. I am going to scan some of the recipes and maybe I’ll post them here. There’s one for Homemade ice cream, but I’m not sure if it’s Mother’s usual one or another one she thought she might try. I’m thinking she had the usual one memorized, but then again maybe she wrote it down for someone else.