It must be Wednesday. . .

And it was. Now it's Thursday. It seems the post I never made made its way into publication. And for that, I apologize.

Yesterday was a full day, with a friend from two states away coming to visit. We sat by the woodstove and talked and caught up as best as three can, and I broke away into the kitchen, only feet away, to make dinner: roast beef pan-browned with onion and peppercorns, then oven-baked in chicken broth. Very simple. I would however, have added a bay leaf to the pot, and some cloves of garlic, but I was out of garlic (a crime, I know), and didn't want to disturb the conversation by going outside to pick the bay leaf. It was still pretty tasty, in all its simple-ness.

To go with, we had mashed potatoes and oven-baked acorn squash, with a pat of butter added half way through, and a touch of brown sugar on each half, near the end of the baking. And while I created a gravy from the juice of the roast, the asparagus steamed.

> My method for making gravy: Mix melted butter and flour in a measuring cup until well blended. Since I had no fat drippings in the roast pan (having cooked it in chicken broth): Add little by little some of the juice from the roast pot, then pour into a warm skillet. I sometimes pour this roux-of-sorts through a strainer in case there are still some solids, and this for me prevents lumps in the gravy. Finish in the pan as normal.

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So while this was going on, the fire was heating the house, it began to rain, and the pumpkin breads cooled on the counter. And a sure-fire method for not-worrying about the doneness of the roast? Sit down to a slide show of a recent Alaska trip/cruise. By then end of that, the asparagus can steam while the potatoes are mashed and the gravy made. The roast was done. We sat down to eat, and the evening was good.

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I said on Facebook yesterday that I need more time. I am becoming antsy about writing more, and am thankful that this year's Poem-A-Day challenge is nearing. The month of November one writes a poem a day - or - by the last day of November, one has a poem for every day of the month. Loosely translated: one might not actually write a poem every day, but one makes up for it on other days. Like Lent, this is incentive to write daily. (I have used Lent as a time to take on daily writing if I haven't been good about it, and the work often draws from what's going on during that time, especially as we head into Holy Week.)

* * *

I didn't post my Wednesday poem, so I'll go looking for one, and it'll show up soon enough. Think of it as a bonus for today, a way to lengthen the love. In my family birthdays are celebrated on the day, but the bigger celebrations were held on Sundays, and sometimes a party on Saturday as well. I think Birthday Week is a better way to handle the situation, making sure you include everyone.

It's fall today, with rain and wind and leaves leaving trees. It's Thursday, and I'm off now to find a poem.


Note: this post is doing double duty, appearing also on After Artist's Way - Portrait of a Sometimes Poet.