footprints in the yellow snow

It snowed last night and I ran around drawing eyeballs on all the car windshields. This is the table on the porch outside the kitchen. I spend a good deal of time in the kitchen, it is my number one extra-curricular...

Flirtatious swirls of sumptuous citrus cinnamon pervade the room as my sweet potatoes lie roasting in the oven. Lookout, Shepahrd's Pie, Salsacita is in town! Review pending... Yesterday my tasty buds celebrated a creamy white Wynesdale, a slightly nutty cheese hinting bittersweet that was infused with dried cranberries, and followed by a fine ginger biscuit. Today's lunch was a fiery tomato-based risotto with eggplant, zucchini and chorizo sausage, then I nestled into a steaming mug of unsweetened chocolate, cinnamon, cayenne and cream. Earlier in the week was a very successful gluten-free mac'n'cheese with mustard seed and cracked peppercorns.

She cooks - she scores! Lot of victories this week, we're aiming to keep up the momentum into the semi-finals. I might have caught a case of the Olympic spirit.

Tara is the incontinent dog with whom I live. Everyday she takes a small white pill wrapped in cheap deli ham so that she will pee outside. The first time alone with Tara I had no idea why she kept dancing around my ankles while I sat and read the paper. She has food, she has water, she just received a bit of a scratch... Oh right! Out you go, Tara, and into the snow. She is stout and miniature, a bit of Jack Russel, mainly mutt. Getting on in years, slightly blind, nearly deaf, with a bald spot on her left haunch - she bathes in love and affection of her caretakress.

This is a statue in the backyard, dusted with morning snow.

Don't believe too much of what you see. Snow is a most temporary phenomenon. Gone altogether if you don't run out to greet it.