Taking on the harder stuff

I started out on burgundy but soon hit the harder stuff

To make up for the overflowing quiches last night - and because I had just enough ingredients leftover - I made a quiche tonight, in a real ceramic pan, not foil, and it didn't overflow.

Here's before
In the oven
And after We ate it with a nice salad - reduced apple cider and shallots in the dressing, greens from the farmers market.

Pie Palooza was a hit - we fed at least 500 people on those 1200 slices of pie; very little pie left over - only enough to send home with the volunteers. Somehow, I managed to do my part to stage it all - I was pretty much the one deciding what to serve when, and getting it all out. I went over yesterday afternoon to grok the pie, and got back today at 7:00 a.m. - and I think I did OK. Two pies got forgotten in the cooler, and one cheesecake got sold at the whole pie price of $15, total score for whoever bought it, but overall, all the generous donations went to happy eaters.

But somehow, I feel like my brother's still taking on the harder stuff, while I keep looking for enlightenment in writing about food. Today he wrote about the disappointment of looking in the mirror and not seeing what you expect. I always expect to see the me that's in this picture he has of me on the fridge - taken 11 years ago, when I wasn't 50 yet, and probably 20 pounds thinner, both our parents were alive (though it was our dad's last summer, we just didn't know it yet). And come to think of it, in the summer of 1998, I was not yet the parent of teenagers either, the point in life when all us parents get their true comeuppance - when your kids are teenagers, you are suddenly a bad parent, because all that stupid teenage stuff they do, it must be your fault.

Yesterday I was thinking about aging, and not able to write about it - how none of my parts are in the right places anymore; when I was undressing to get in the shower after the leaking pie fiasco, I felt for my flat belly - it shoulda been there, but it was not, and don't even ask about the girl parts. But hey, I almost have cleavage sometimes now - I guess that is the upside of weight gain.

The county wants me to take in another foster kid, and I don't want to, and I feel guilty about that, too. I kinda like the empty house, just me and the old man, kids only passing through only on occasion. I should have had 5, I guess, instead of the two, maybe I'd feel less like I have to help more now. But they take up so much more space as they get older.

And maybe folks' souls are soggy and grey in Seattle - here, it's unseasonable 63 degrees at 10 p.m. - and that's almost creepier, even if it's only for our buried memories of Indian attacks, on top of newer fears of global warming. PS - Plus, as I noticed while biking to work on Monday morning, when it's so mild like this, the whole west side of Madison smells like cow manure - like cow ass, as John would say - from the University barns.