Haaave you met Ted?

It is a cheery myth among my friends that I know everyone. One time I was presenting an award at Silver Spring Stage's annual awards party and Michael introduced me by saying that I needed no introduction as I know everyone. I got to the mike and something like, "Not quite. There are eight or so of you here that I haven't met. Please see my on your way out."

So tonight after the Nats game*, David and I decided to take the Circulator bus back to Union Station instead of fighting the crowds getting on the green line. David waved his wallet (which contains his SmarTrip card) over the reader on the bus and then I began explaining to the bus driver that I didn't have mine with me.

"Throw her off the bus!" commanded a voice from the front. The driver laughed and waved me back and David and I went and sat with theater-friend Blake (for the commanding voice was his), who was on the bus and who had been at the game. How nice to run into someone we knew!

We were chit-chatting waiting for the bus to get underway and someone near by took a closer look at me. "Leta?" It was Brick, one of my Markland friends, who I haven't seen in probably ten years or more. So that was nice, too!**

David watching me begin to ping-pong a conversation between these people from the disparate parts of my life and asked me if there was anyone on the bus I didn't know.

"Yes," I said, pointing to the nearest stranger. "Him." I stuck out my hand, "Hi, I'm Leta."

"Brian." He smiled and shook my hand.

So that's one more down and only 5 billion and some to go before I actually do know everyone.


*Pirates 8, Nats 5 in ten innings. Alas.
**Actual tally for the evening: Lauren from work was at the game but wasn't there with us, I saw her near the consessions; Jacki and Evan were at the game and I got to say "hi" to them during the 6th inning; Blake and Brick (and Brian) were on the bus; Blake introduced me to his friend Ashley and her friend while we were underway; and Rich and Peggy were on the Metro. Brett is going to be surprised to read this, but I didn't see anyone from my high school all evening.

Best Bio Ever

I do the programs for Silver Spring Stage and I see a lot of theater. Nonetheless, this is the best bio I have ever read.

Samantha (Sprintze) is a 6th grader at [school] and is overjoyed to be part of Fiddler on the Roof Jr. This is her first time ever on stage. She loves acting, singing, swimming, and cooking. She would like to thank her Aunt Leta for getting her into theater, and Mr. Johnson for the training.

Thanks, Mr. Keillor

"The Episcopal Church - where the Lamb is free-range."

paraphrased from the "A Prairie Home Companion" re-run this weekend.

On the shopping list

My church, like most churches, has baskets in the narthex* to collect nonperishable food for the hungry. As the food went to Silver Spring HELP, the baskets were informally known as the HELP baskets.

I've been contributing off and on all my life, usually whatever random staple I happened to have on hand as I was leaving for church. And after Mom moved from her apartment to Old People's Prison**, I put all the gluten-containing food from her kitchen in the HELP baskets, which was rather a bonus because Mom had pretty wide tastes in food and she didn't buy store brands too often.

I haven't worried too much about what I was putting in the baskets, but ITE*** food and money are walking a little closer together in everyone's minds. I've mentioned before that gluten-free food often costs more and is harder to find than "regular" food. I'm not talking about gluten-free cupcakes, but a more standard cupboard item: breakfast cereal. I gave up eating breakfast cereal when I couldn't find any that either wasn't sweetened with barley malt (which has gluten) or didn't cost a depressing amount of money.

Chex Cereals (owned by General Mills) has recently taken the barley malt out of Rice Chex and replaced it with molasses. They also work to prevent cross-contamination, making these cereals appropriate for Celiacs. This is good news, but cereal is still - comparatively - an expensive food item and food pantries often mention that it is something that they run out of quickly.

So if you read this blog and if you contribute to your local food pantry, I am asking a favor. Please consider buying a few gluten-free items when considering what to donate.

Some suggestions:

Nature's Path - they're Canadian! They must be nice.

EnviroKidz cereals**** - Thanks to my friend Doug I have a sentimental attachment to the Leapin' Lemurs cereal;

Rice Chex;

Amy's Organic soups - Several soups are gluten-free (and clearly marked so) and a few are even corn-free. (And if there is an allergy more annoying than gluten, it's corn because HFCS is in every damn thing.)



*lobby
** Come on, really, if the door to your room gets shut and someone else has to open it, or else you can't leave your room, isn't that rather prison-like? If you can't go into the courtyard unless someone holds the door open; if your vitamins are confiscated by the staff; if you get out of bed and go to bed on their schedule - doesn't that justify the phrasing?
***ITE = In This Economy. Thanks, David for the initialism.
****Nature's Path owns Envirokidz

Treat of the Week

When Sara and I were kids my Mom instituted something that even then I thought was really smart and admire more as an adult: The Treat of the Week.

We would go to the grocery store with Mom every Saturday and would each be allowed to pick out one treat. One. It could be anything we wanted - and thank goodness we weren't required to share - but it could only be one. One box of sugary cereal? Sure, fine. Two? No. One box of Pop-Tarts filled with chocolate frosting? Sure, fine. Two? No. One entire baked ham? Sure, fine.

Mom didn't put restrictions on what the treat could be,* nor did she parcel it out during the week. We could ration it for the week or eat the whole thing on Saturday when we got home. They were our treats. But once it was gone, it was gone. No more treats until the next Saturday.

Sara and I had a nice sense of empowerment about being allowed to chose our own treats and Mom was the spared an entire grocery store of of us whining for more stuff.

For what was probably several months straight, Sara and I each chose a tube of chocolate chip cookie dough. We'd keep it in the freezer and snack on it, usually making it last until the next week.

Instead of baking the cookies, we'd eat the dough raw**, sometimes cutting off lady-like pieces, sometimes just gnawing on it straight from the tube, which prett' near grossed Mom out of existence but as the rule about not micromanaging our Weekly Treats was hers, she'd just arrange to be out of the kitchen whenever we went looking for a snack. She was probably grateful during that period that she worked a sixty-hour week because if I was awake, I was probably looking around for a snack.***

As an adult I was delighted when Ben and Jerry's introduced Chocolate Chip Cookie Dough ice cream and considered it an homage to the Treat of the Week whenever I had some. Then I got that stupid auto-immune disorder and can no longer eat CCCD ice cream.

But thanks to Whole Foods I can at least go back to having random bits of raw cookie dough. Until they realize how much I like it and discontinue carrying it, they have gluten-free cookie dough made by a company called French Meadow that tastes remarkably like anybody else's cookie dough.**** It comes already sliced, which while reducing the level of just-like-when-I-was-a-kid inheirant in consuming raw "food," it does make it more office-friendly.

I buy a couple of boxes, put one in the freezer and one in the fridge, and most days after lunch I wander down to the "coffee mess" and collect one to nibble on back at my desk. Corporate at our company (I work for Corporate) is pretty much a junior UN so no one questions any one's possibly odd-looking food.

It's from Whole Foods and it's gluten-free so it costs enough to enforce a one-per day rationing.

And there are nine per box, so it's more like Treat of the Every Other Week.


* Which is an impressive example of self-control as most of our choices probably made her gag.
** See what I mean?
** This is still true. I am constantly hungry.
**** In the gluten-free world, tasting like the ordinary product is a very good thing.

Family-friendly theater

In the middle of the front row of the dress circle on the rare occasion of the first performance of an original English play sits a young lady of fifteen. She is a very charming girl—gentle, modest, sensitive—carefully educated and delicately nurtured—very easily flurried and perhaps a little too apt to take alarm when no occasion for alarm exists—but, nevertheless, an excellent specimen of a well-bred young English gentlewoman; and it is with reference to its suitability to the eyes and ears of this young lady that the moral fitness of every original English play is gauged on the occasion of its production. It must contain no allusions that cannot be fully and satisfactorily explained to this young lady; it must contain no incident, no dialogue, that can, by any chance, summon a blush to this young lady’s innocent face.

Well, gentlemen, I have no objection to this young lady. I think, on the contrary, that the presence of this young lady has exercised a most wholesome restrictive influence on the character of our few original plays, and I shall be sorry indeed if the day ever comes when her parents and guardians will find it advisable to prohibit her attendance on the occasions I have described. I look upon her presence at my own “first nights” as a direct and most gratifying personal compliment—the more so, as I happen to know that, on no account whatever, would she be permitted to be present at a première of M. Victorien Sardou or M. Alexandre Dumas.

But when a comparison is instituted between our original English drama, such as it is, and the drama of France, such as that is, I think that the restrictive influence exercised—and most properly and wholesomely exercised—by this admirable girl should be fully, freely, and frankly admitted. And it is a never-ending source of wonder to me that, with the whole gamut of human emotion to play upon; with no restraining influence of any kind whatever; and with the dead certainty that no innocent girl of fifteen will ever run a chance of being affected by their improprieties, the dramatists of France can only ring out threadbare variations of that dirty old theme—the cheated husband, the faithless wife, and the triumphant lover.

(reprinted in The Era, Feb. 21, 1885, p. 14 from a speech by W.S. Gilbert)

I am really right

The only thing better than being proved right is being proved right about the same thing more than once. Being proved really right.

Okay, so four years ago we established that my friend Samantha's theater job is that of stage manager. At the age of seven she was noticing as much about the technical stuff as she was about the story.

She is now a very pre-tween 11* and, it seems, has not changed in her basic nature. She may sing and dance - she has been cast in her school's upcoming "Fiddler on the Roof" as one of the younger daughters and she also sings very nice solos in church - but she is a stage manager at heart.

How do I know this? Because her cousin Charles (the future producer) was in the 6th - 8th grade play at school which I saw on Friday and Sam saw on Saturday**. Our conversation after church on Sunday went like this:

Me: So did you see Charles's show?
The Stage Manager DBA an 11-year-old-girl: Yeah. The scene changes took for-ever!
Me: I know!
The Stage Manager DBA an 11-year-old-girl: Charles said they only had two people moving sets, but ---
Me: -- even so!

I think for her next birthday I'm going to buy Sam a bunch of black long-sleeve t-shirts to wear backstage while she calls shows.

And next month Charles and I (and the rest of the crowd) will be seeing Sam in "Fiddler." I'm also willing to bet that The Producer DBA an 11-year-old-boy will have some suggestions for how to improve the gross.



*Some 11-year-olds are still little girls, some of them are seconds away from teendom. Sam is 11 going on 17 and yet still a sweet girl withal.

**And he was adorable. His best moment was as the train conductor in an early scene. He warns the New Yorkers to avoid Lonesome Polecat because of the big feud going on. They are determined to go. And with his father's deadpan delivery Charles says "Well, I hope you've got lots of insurance." "Insurance? Why?" "Ricochets."

Very very rare

See? It is possible to take a picture of me where I don't have my camera smile.

CRS

I have a pretty decently developed case of CRS* It has gotten to the point that prett' near any time I agree to something I request a follow up e-mail because the chances that I will remember whatever it is all the way to my car are remote. Or even to the other side of the room. Sometimes I forget by the time I hang up the phone.

I was explaining this to someone the other day and said that one day someone will ask me the Important Question and my answer will be, "Oh, darling, you've made me so happy! Yes, of course, I'll marry you. And I'll love you forever. But do me a favor? E-mail me and remind me?"


*Can't Remember Stuff

Not what you'd call shy

An interview with Leta Who Never Runs Out of Things to Say.

Although, tragically, Mike did edit out my chirping "Hi, Honey!" and "Hi, Sweetie!" every time someone came in the room, which could practically have served as a DNA fingerprint that it was really me talking.

How to listen at work

Radio in this area is pretty bad. And the cheap little Sony that I have on my desk generally picks up about 5 stations, three of which I actually listen to: NPR on 88.5 (WAMU); classic rock on the sad, pathetic remains of 94.7; and Top 20* on 107.3.

Whereas I like to complain, David is a problem solver at heart, so he gave me a very nice JBL iPod dock for Christmas. I have it on the desk at work and I listen to Morning Edition on the radio until 10:00 and then plug in myPod for the rest of the day. I generally go through about 50 - 80 songs between 10:00 and whenever I chose to leave and, because they are on myPod, they are all songs that I like, although that doesn't stop me from glancing over every so often and thinking "Oh! I like that song!" Such a genius, I tell you.... (At this minute, it's Gene Kelly melting me with "Singin' in the Rain" from a collection of movie music.)

I had been very foot-draggy about ripping my CDs to the computer, but now that I use myPod at work so much, I'm more inspired. As of this morning, there are 901 songs on myPod and I'm hearing music that has been just sitting and waiting for me, feeling all neglected.

The other inspiration to better populate those bit receptors is that Carl, with whom I'm performing in Rehearsal for Murder, is a DJ (weddings, not radio) and we tend to talk music a lot. He has challenged me to put together a mix-CD of songs I like and he will do the same for me. If I'm going to put it on a CD, I need to have it on the computer, so I've been ripping up a storm.**

Because no one should ask for a CD of my favorites and not find the Partridge Family on it, I jumped ahead in my mostly alphabetical ripping order, which means that I get the occasional "I Think I Love You" or "Point Me in the Direction of Albuquerque" at the office, which only improves my day.

The hard part will be narrowing down the playlist to something manageable, but I have decided that it should be a true sampler: pop music new and old; what David calls "art music" and everyone else I know calls "classical;" some jazz; some nonsense; some show tunes; some G&S.

And speaking of G&S, I am very fond of the Savoy operas, but myPod is strongly preferential to them. I only have Gondoliers, Sorcerer, The Zoo, and Iolanthe on so far (loaded for different singing projects), but I hear much more Sullivan (especially Sorcerer) in a day than I do, say Warren Zevon or Mary-Chapin Carpenter.

And, as I like to point out, the reason that pop music is such good office music is that it has just the one dynamic (mf)*** whereas jazz is often softer and classical is all over the map. So I am constantly diving for the little volume buttons so that my co-workers aren't unexpectedly dealing with something fff after a mp Josephine Baker piece.

This morning before work I copied music from The Little Rascals played by the Beau Hunks which includes the particularly nice "Jazz Wedding." Tonight Ludwig van joins the gang.

Hmmm. Maybe Carl is open to this being a box set.



*Based on their extremely limited playlist one could not call them Top 40 without feeling dishonest.
** If you can call it ripping up a storm when the computer crashes and needs to be restarted after each CD, but let that pass.
***Uhh -- mezzo forte. Jeez. You people. Honestly.

How to kiss a friend on stage

Henry: (Turning to Alais, opening his arms.) Forget the dragon in the doorway: come. (Holding her.) Believe I love you, for I do. Believe I'm yours forever, for I am. Believe in my contentment and the joy you give me and believe -- (Breaking, turning to Eleanor.) You want more?

The Lion in Winter by James Goldman

Welcome on my team any time

Stage Managers come in as many varieties as any other group of people but we seem to get a lot of certain types:

Calm and organized;
Stressed and organized;
Snippy;
Chatty and disorganized;
Other.

Mike, our Stage Manager for Rehearsal for Murder is from the calm and organized pool. He calls less attention to himself than anyone else I've ever worked with in theater and I've yet to hear him snap at or be rude to anyone.*

On Saturday a bunch of us went to lunch and were joking about whether Director Chip would kill if we just hung out in the pretty weather for the rest of the day rather than return to the theater. I joked that Chip wouldn't kill us; he'd send Mike to kill us.

We thought about that for a second and then I said "And you know, if Chip did, Mike would be calm and he'd be pleasant and we'd be dead."


*Of course, the show doesn't close til early April and it ain't over 'til it's over, but we've already had two long tech working days.

An RC Cola

The only Mardi Gras I ever attended was in Mobile, Alabama, so it was awfully nice to hear this story yesterday on All Things Considered about Mobile's claim to have been celebrating Fat Tuesday before Neworlens was even a Blackened Cajun spot on the map.

I don't remember catching any Moon Pies, but there were definitely beads, and candy, and trinkets, and dime store junk a-plenty flying through the air. My cousin, Robbie, was living with my grandparents in those days and he was taller than we were, so he caught as much as he could for his younger girl cousins from up North.

And here is a little more about the Land of My Father.

For Charles

Devoted readers will remember that one of my functions in life is to lose to Charles at Monopoly. I'm not sure if Scott Meyer's tutorial will improve the experience for me, but it's worth a shot.

Rejoinder

My Boss wanted to give me a to-do list yesterday while I was sitting at the front desk. And, of course, the only thing I could find to write on was a 1 1/2" by 2" Post-It note pad.

He started to tell me what he wanted and then looked down and said, "I want you to know that that is a completely inadequate platoon leader's notebook."

"Oh, I know," I replied, "it's like a fountain pen-and-pocketknife tracheotomy kit."

I think, or maybe just hope, that it's quick similes-in-kind that help keep me employed here.

Sorry, wrong "number"

It was like a misdial for our modern times. I got a request from my e-mail service that someone named D-- wanted to be able to chat with me. I didn't recognize the name but couldn't be sure that I didn't know the person, so I let it hang for a couple of days.

I ran the e-mail address through Google and got a link to a real live person who seemed harmless enough, so I okayed it. I am just well known enough in theater that more people know me than I know, but most of them don't live in Texas, but what the heck. If D-- turned out to be evil, I could just block her.

So all is quiet for a day or two and then I get an IM from D-- asking me to e-mail her: e-mail me at [e-mail address] bye!

I ignored it because I still wasn't sure I even knew D--. And then I'm starting to think that D-- is some kind of spammer or other internet villain. Then this I get this IM. I keep my answers short because I still had no clue is this was someone I knew (and therefore didn't wish to offend) and because I was hoping some kind of penny would drop.

11:40 AM D--: hey
11:41 AM me: Hi.
D--: how r u?
me: Fine - you?
D--: great ...... new grandson born yesterday all are doing good
me: Congratulations!
D--: Carl jr's first child
11:42 AM H-- M-- H--
6 ;b 9 oz 18.5
i didn't get an e-mail from you
me: No, we were closed the last week of the year and I'm still digging out.
11:43 AM D--: i'm at a workshop so i may need to exit at any time ....
k
just didn't know if it had bounced
me: Ahhh.

Then she's gone for a little bit. Okay, it's someone old enough to be a grandparent, (but of course, as I like to point out, if my neice Cheryl had done what her mother did, Sara would have been a grandmother at 32). She sent a picture of the very cute baby, but it's a close up of only the child, who looks like.... well, like prett' near every baby I've ever met. And very cute. So no clues there.

12:09 PM D--: kearly lunch break love you talk to you soon
12:11 PM me: Later!
12:12 PM A*dor*able!
(The baby, of course, not lunch.)

Longer break this time. Without context I probably have no chance whatsoever of figuring who she is. But she seems very nice.

1:41 PM D--: ok we're back ... hope all is well for you ... hope your day is great
1:45 PM me: And to you. :-)
1:47 PM D--: are you at work?
1:48 PM me: Yep.
1:50 PM D--: i didn't know you could be online at work you still work at the hospital?
1:51 PM me: No, I've been working for an engineering firm for nearly ten years. Hospital?
D--: ok this must be a different leta hall than the one in paris tx?
1:52 PM me: Oh my. Ohhh-kay. I feel better now. Yes, I am a different Leta.
1:53 PM I thought I was just totally failing to remember someone.
D--: that is unbelievable! and quite interesting ... not an everyday name!
have a great day and one day we'll talk again!
me: No! I didn't meet another Leta until I was an adult and never another Leta Hall.
When next you talk to her, please send my regards! :-)

D-- found me because "her" Leta and I have (not surprisingly) very similar e-mail addresses. She and I have talked once or twice since then and I think that her friend is on Facebook because the search features shows a Leta Hall in Texas. I may have to friend her...

As it turns out the Texas Leta was, according to D--, also named for her grandmother Oleta and also has the middle initial M. As interesting as I think it would be to meet her, I'm beginning to suspect that we shouldn't, lest that whole matter/anti-matter thing kick in.

And oddly enough, this past summer I got a LinkedIn request from someone who I would have thought would have been the last person ever to join a site whose purpose is to connect people. I was surprised to say the least, but I accepted the request figuring why not? Turns out that it is a completely different person with my friend's name whom I have never met. Perhaps he also thought I live in Texas...

Inauguration Day 2009

Simple Gifts by Elder Joseph Brackett

'Tis the gift to be simple, 'tis the gift to be free,
'Tis the gift to come down where you ought to be,
And when we find ourselves in the place just right,
'Twill be in the valley of love and delight.
When true simplicity is gain'd,
To bow and to bend we shan't be asham'd,
To turn, turn will be our delight,
Till by turning, turning we come round right.

(Kathy Sobansky of Clam Chowder wrote second verse of:)

Tis a gift to be simple,'Tis a gift to be free,
For the proud are cast down deeper than the sea,
The first shall be last and the last shall be first,
And the meek at last shall receive the earth.
When true simplicity is gain'd,
To bow and to bend we shan't be asham'd,
To turn, turn will be our delight,
Till by turning, turning we come round right.

25 Things

Andy posted a meme on Facebook that he got from Michael wherein one lists 25 facts about oneself. It was actually a pretty interesting exercise, although I'm still not sure that there are 25 interesting facts about me. Anyway, here they are:


1. I was born in Monterey, California and my sister was born in Annapolis, Maryland. And that's about as close as we ever got.

2. Everyone I tagged is someone that I have known for more than 20 years. (At least one of whom ignores being tagged.)

3. Prett' near everyone in the US with the last name Reichenbach is related to me.

4. I hate most pictures taken of me, but not as much as I used to.

5. I didn't become a nervous flier until I was 25. I used to love to fly.

6. Even though I hate to fly, if that's how to get somewhere, I get on the plane.

7. A friend once told me that narcissists start most sentences with the word "I." I've been very concious of how often I do that ever since.

8. The name of the person I would call for help in the middle of the night because I know with absolute certainty that he would help me and would yell at me if I didn't call him hasn't changed in 25 years.

9. I don't care what personal questions people ask me so long as I can stipulate that I might not answer or might answer with something that merely sounds plausible rather than actually being true.

10. I very rarely get sick, even when everyone else is getting sick. That's because I drink roughly 50 nice, hot cups of tea every day. Sometimes more.

11. I am constantly amazed by the awesome, generous, kind, and intelligent, people who are willing to be friends with me. I am far luckier than I deserve, always.

12. E-mails and texts are fun. Phone calls are work.

13. I hate heights. A lot.

14. I like all my parents.

15. Crappy with money, am I. (Trying not to start sentence with "I". Sounding like Yoda.)

16. Not really sure that there are 25 *interesting* things about me. We may soon descend into 25 really dull things about me out of my stockpile of millions.

17. I don't have any kind of life plan. I usually just stumble into the next job, home, or hobby, like it a lot and stay.

18. I've work for the same company for nearly ten years. It's still fun.

19. I went from wanting four children to not wanting any. Still think that's the right decision for me.

20. My friends' children are just as awesome as their parents, making me even luckier as I get to know them, too.

21. My grandparents were Lutheran, Catholic, and Baptist. I was raised Episcopalian and didn't know that we had been anything else until late in my teenage years.

22. My great-uncle was a communist and edited the weekend edition of The Daily Worker for eleven years. I never got to meet him and didn't know he existed until I was in college. He wasn't estranged from the family, but he did sever all ties when my Dad was a child to protect the family from negative reactions to his political opinions. They were re-united after my father retired from the military.
Robert Hall bio.

23. Frustrated as I am by clutter, I have a lot of it.

24. I would totally understand if someone unfriended me to get a free Whopper. We do what we have to for free food!

25. Got all the the way through this list without including any factlets about my current major hobby/obsession. :-)

Be it resolved

I don't make many New Year's resolutions, but this year I did come up with two that I think I can live with*:

1. If the temperature is above 40 degrees as I am getting dressed and I don't have to be somewhere immediately after, I will walk to work.

Progress report: So far, so good. Or so far, not so good. The only day the temp was above 40 so far this work year, was the day that I had to return the laptop to the office, so I drove.** All other days were cold or cold & rainy.

I will probably have to walk on Inauguration Day not matter how cold it might be as all the bridges from Virginia to DC will be closed and I live on a major Maryland to downtown DC route, so getting out of the parking lot for my building could possibly take all day.

2. I will cook at least one thing from one of my cookbooks each month. My friend Stephanie, who lives in Michigan, made the same resolution so we going to cook together long distance. Whenever one of us tries a new recipe, we'll e-mail the other and say what cookbook it came from and what we thought of it. David thought it sounded like a cool idea and would also like to play.

What prompted this resolution for me is that when Mom did the apartment to Very Assisted Living downsize, I got many of her cookbooks. So I have lots of cookbooks in kitchen and if they are going to take up that much real estate - they completely fill the roughly two-foot wide, four shelf baker's rack - they should get used.

I'm utterly dying to use a cookbook of my own that I've had for years, The Norman Table, largely because it's pretty and prett' near every recipe calls for Calvados. Just for fun, though, I decided to start with the top shelf and work from left to right. And as I shelf my cookbooks by height, I am basically going from shortest to tallest.

The other "rules" for this game***:

1. The recipe should be one I've never made before. No fair using the recipe for Cinnamon Toast from my Winnie-the-Pooh cookbook. Turn to a different page, girl! Show some initiative!

2. The first time I make the recipe, I will prepare it as written. Henceforth, I can use the text as a series of suggestions. Except for flour substitutions, of course.

3. Mom always put the date under a recipe if she was making it for the first time and it's nice to see that in her old cookbooks. I think I'll give preference to recipies with dates in her handwriting. And I'll add my dates.

First up is the James Beard Cookbook, which has dates in Mom's handwriting and my teenage handwriting.


*If I really need a third, I could add something easy and fun like "spend more time watching tv with a cat on my lap." The cat would definitely vote for that.

**Carrying a laptop that one does not own for a mile is: a) heavy, and b) asking for a trip-and-fall.

***Which only apply to me. I'm not goat-roping Stephanie or David.