somepinkflowers

haiku my heart on my way home

plump are my secrets
holding promise of sweetness
too tempting to share

~~~~~~~~~~~

for more haiku my heart
which takes you around the world,

please visit
recuerda mi corazon

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

seaside? still?

 seaside   salty air    seafood 
simmering soup   {{ limoncello }}   shore birds
splashing   {{ dear friends }}    sassy salsa 
solidtude    siesta    sand  seagulls
seafront    seaside sparrow
sky  serenity   seacoast  secrets
seaside still !!

haiku my heart with cookies

dear sweetness of life,
i long to gooble you down.
pray tomorrow waits...

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~

pretend you get credit
&
it goes on your Permanent Record
if visit us over here---->
with recuerda mi corazon
{{  real school should have been so easy  }}

why i love my st augustine amphitheatre

• Well~known artist play their hearts out here, they are so happy!
• Venue under the stars could not B better. {{photo taken from cheapest seat!}}
• Yummy food like locally made crab~cakes with rich remoulade sauce.
• Volunteers, like moi, smile & help out graciously...Wellll, we do.

tourist tuesday and a first meal out, marrakesh

Has this ever happened to you?

You are eating out in a Exotic Location...

with Brand~New Acquaintances from all around the world.

After consuming more spicy olives in 10 minutes
than you have eaten since This British Invasion...

a yummy plate of couscous & veggies is set down gently
before your very eyes.

All around you hands are flying.

Even the H2O looks exotic through your Blogging~Girl Vision.

More than anything in The Universe
you Long to pull out your wee Nikon and *snap away* left and right.

Your GreatestDesire is to capture images
of the colorful, steaming food and record it For All Time.

Before you even take one delicious bite
~~you pause~~
for Your Manners to catch up with your hunger.

Is it the Ultimate of Blogging Politeness
to wait for everyone to pull out their camera
and *snap away* before delving into your meal?

Has this ever happened to you?

 

tourist tuesday and stopping for lunch in marrakesh

Sometimes when out shopping for carpets one's energy can plum run right out the door.

If that happens to you in Marrakesh, find a roof top restuarant and order up.

Having been a Big Fan of olives my entire life thus far, I was in high heaven to find olives on every menu at every turn.

That and eggplant.

With nine in our group this day, we ordered a taste of this and that plus more.

Honestly, as hard as we shopped, as much energy as we spent looking, you would have thought that once the food arrived at our table we would have all plowed right on in.

But no.

We were in awe of the presentation...

Completely floored by the simplicity...

Such visual yumminess beyond compare!

And, still, we paused...

for a little camera action from this one...

and this one...

and this one, as well.

I bet you thought it was just me snapping away.

Some how sitting in a restaurant with other bloggers who are also taking snaps of food does not seem quite as odd as when I am all alone doing the same thing.

"Look at that group of food critics over there!" I feel certain people are saying instead of  "Look at that poor woman all alone photographing her food."

Not that it really bothers me at all when I am alone photographing food in a restaurant because when I do THAT, it means I do not need to share 'my subject' one little bit.

If you get my drift...

But, that being said, I did save this one for you!
Now, smile!

tourist tuesday and the hot chocolate near the sea

In yesterday's warm sunshine I walked beside the calmly sleeping sea near my home.

Surfers--perched on rainbow-colored boards--sat on the ocean's peaceful back waiting for the next big wave that would never come quick enough to suit their purpose.

I walked along the shore a greedy thief pocketing mostly-broken shells as they are my favorite kind. Chipped and imperfect they harbor personal and private histories I will never know.

My finger rested perfectly at home in one pink shell and I found solice like a child sucking her thumb. And I should know about such things.

So much in mother nature is offered up to us and too often we take it forgranted. I guess this is human nature as however can we walk around all the day long saying:

"Wow! Would you look at the color of that flower!"
"Oh, my goodness! What do you think about that redbud tree!"
"Holy crow! Did you see the size of that seagull?"

If we noticed every little nature miracle we might never get anything else done otherwise.

I grew up on this sweet beach and never gave thanks for her until I went away to college and she went missing.

Isn't that always the way? You do not know what you have until it is gone.

When I travel I always think to myself, "I may never see this again!" and then I pray I will. I hope and pray again.  Sometimes I rinse and repeat this mantra many times over the course of my stay.

I bet you are the same way. I bet you do the same thing.

I have made every attempt known to women*kind to plop down near foreign shores whenever I can possibly manage it.

I plop down and after taking 10,000 photos I sit back and give thanks for my good fortune.

Never have I wondered what would become of my fine view if the earth quaked and the sea rose up. Never have I pondered all the treasures that would be lost.

In yesterday's warm sunshine I walked beside the calmly sleeping sea near my home and thoughts of tormented Japan plucked at my heart.

tourist tuesday and walking to the musee du louvre

By the time I sat down to my place at the table a self-proclaimed World Traveller was holding court.

We did not know each other but of the 8 other folks at the table I also did not know he seemed the most promising for fascinating chat.

I held high hopes along with my overflowing buffet plate. Balancing the cornbread on the rim held most of my attention whilst I organized myself.

Which just goes to show you how wrong a person can be. Not about cornbread. But about people.

"Yes," the World Traveller explained, polishing his salad fork as if it were the Crown Of Great Experience, "I am here to tell you there is nothing to see in Paris."

"What?" I swallowed my sweet~tea in one noisy gulp, incredulous at his proclamation. "What? What?"

Clearly misplaced shampoo was clogging my ears.

I looked around to see what my fellow table-mates would say.

No one said a word. Suddenly it seemed the cornbread held everyone's attention.

I was gently raised as a southern lady not to discuss politics, religion or money at the supper table. Everyone knows to do so can interfer with proper digestion and may lead to upset tummies and so on and on...

Quickly I scanned my memory bank of Emily Post and her long line of family experts.

In the past travel had always served me safe and sound for conversations with strangers.

"Yes," the World Traveller droned on, holding his dinner knife as if it were the a Scepter Of Knowing Everything, "You might as well stay home and save your money."

Under the table and out of sight I silently folded my cloth napkin into a linen replica of the Eiffel Tower. The radio in my head played French songs.

"Oh, my!" I had to respond as my tongue knew my heart all too well, having been neighbors all my life. Under the table I pleated The Tower.

"Are you just back from France and how long did you stay?"

"No," the World Traveller answered, raising his glass of scotch as if it were the Golden Chalice of Do Not Question My Authority, "I took a world tour 28 years ago and spent 2 nights in Paris."

"The hotel was small and dirty and the French were very rude."

All available air was suddenly sucked from above my table. I could not breath. I tried not to gasp.

"Oh, my!" I had to answer, thinking all the while of Emily Post and my grandmother and my dear hostess and my lovely, lovely Paris.

And do forgive me, but who, exactly who, should I betray?

"How unfortunate for you but isn't this cornbread simply the best and whatever do you think of Barcelona and, by the way,  would you please pass the butter?"

where

let me show you where I am drinking my early morning tea

for a few days here down by the riverside

early before the sun jumps up out of his bed
to brightly glow the Florida sky

early whilst the fish are still in beds snoring quietly

early where i find myself in a cup of hot pomegranate tea

early before the heron are  energetic enough to fly about to forge

early where most mornings i salute Nature giving thanks

my world in a small red cup

{{ remembering also to look down so as not to miss a thing }}

enjoying every last drop of private peace & tranquil quiet
before the day begins

this one almost slipped past me

Whilst trying to decide what to do with my Day Off, it came to me. Mostly I do the same thing every time...

If the sun is shining in the spring I almost always try to head over here for an hour or two. Visiting the beach helps me recharge my internal solar batteries. The energy returns. I come along home and weed the south pasture or completely clean~up the family motor~pool.

If it is rainy out and I cannot beach~play or garden~work then I plop down in front of my computer and pop in to visit you.

Hope you do not mind that your are my rainy~day~friend.

Sometimes you are my late~night~and~I~cannot~sleep~friend. How nice of you to be so handy,  night and day!

Either way, visiting you helps me recharge my internal creative batteries. The inspiration returns. I come along back to reality and draw the flowers growing in the south pasture and then completely clean~up the family compound in a creative fashion, arranging linens by hue.

Bouncing around Bloglandia with my Earl Grey on an overcast day this week I visited here and read the best poem! I was gently reminded it was National Poetry Month. However did I forget?

If Earth Day should be Every Day, then Poetry Month should be Every Month.

I feel certain you will agree.

This is the book I brought home from the library to help me celebrate Poetry Month.

Of all the poets in the world I do wonder if you know of the story of William Carlos Williams.

Here is a short poem he wrote in 1934. I hope you like it as much as I do.

This Is Just To Say

I have eaten
the plums
that were in
the icebox

and which
you were probably
saving
for breakfast

Forgive me
they were delicious
so sweet
and so cold

Whilst trying to decide what to do with my Day Off today, it came to me.

I should share a  poem or two with you. And so I did.

I meant to share the Early Grey and the chocolate yummies, too, but there is a Tornado Warning in effect. 

I did not want you to come out and get caught in the storm.
Maybe next time.

chocolate and flowers and hearts and candy and buttons and thread and sunshine 4 U

A few of my favorite yummy things just 4 U!
I hope your day is sweet and warm. ♥♥♥
Fondly yours,
somepinkflowers

world nutella day 2010

Dear nutella,
I am thinking of you this very moment and wishing you all the best on your special day.

You are not wrapped up in the fabric that was my childhood, nutella, as I was all over pb and j during the time of my youth.  Most often served on this because, well,  what did we know then?

No, nutella, you are tucked gently in my French memory bank.

Yes, yes, yes.
I realize that France is not the country of your birth, nutella, but it is where we met.

Do you remember our first cocoa~kiss?

A rather chilly, over-cast day at that teeny creperie near the Sorbonne. The one where poor university students go between classes to grab nourishment.

Victor Hugo and Voltaire may fill the head but the body yearns for fat and sugar.

I was cold and shivering that day; you were warm and inviting.
To this day when I see these I think of you, my hazelnut friend.

After my return home, for the longest time I could not find you anywhere near my southern town. The memory of you danced hauntingly in every taste of milky cocoa.

The shape of your jar. The color of your logo. The smoothness of you gliding over an apple, a pear, especially on this.

The remembrance of your flavor lingered long after our first encounter.

I tried other spreads, experimenting with a few of my own, but nothing satisfied my hunger.

nutella, truly you are unparalleled.
You stand alone.

Then, when I was not even looking, there you were waiting for me here!
I nearly cried. After that I carried you with me everywhere.

Soon I found you in big cities back in the States. Finally you made your way south, past the peanut growing states, and into my Florida markets.

Oh happy day!

nutella, you are with me always now. Through hurricanes and tropical depressions. It is YOU that I store and stock in my pantry. 

Do you realize how perfectly you fit into my day? Into my life? Into my locker at work?

Dearest nutella, I heart you. Today and everyday. Fat and sugar.
One and all. You so suit me. Never change. I will buy you always.
Is it enough to say no cost is too great? 

I am here for you, fondly,
somepinkflowers  ♥

everybody has 2 B somewhere

Yesterday I ran smack*dab into Steven Seagal. He was at my market picking up jars of Barilla Tomato & Basil Spaghetti Sauce which were buy 1, get 1 free. I was tempted myself but Barilla is not my usually brand.

In an obvious effort not to stare, I looked down and happened to notice Steven also had this is his shopping buggy and this, too, which surprised me a bit but with stars you never know.

Even though I can not name one single movie Steven has ever made I was beside myself with secret pleasure at my star*sighting.

Steven Seagal! In my market here in St. Augustine, Florida!

What were the chances?

Well, the chances turned out to be slim-to-none as it turned out NOT to be Steven Seagal at all, which I realized after about 2 minutes, AFTER I had memorized the entire contents of his shopping cart FOR NOTHING!

Then I realized this guy looked way too young to be Steven Seagal. Plus, no offense, Steven, it happens to the best of us, but hasn't the real Steven Seagal porked out a bit lately?

This guy pushing the cart in my market was so kick*ss fit I was ready to go on the Steven Seagal Barilla Tomato & Basil Spaghetti Sauce Diet.

This guy looked so much like the Steven Seagal of, say, 20 years ago, it almost made me think I was possibly looking at Steven Seagal's son.

It might have been. Who is to say? Does he have one? This would have explained everything.

If it HAD been Steven Seagal's son most likely I would not have even looked into his shopping cart. But I might have as I am nosy that way.

Does this ever happen to you?

You see some one or something and your personal schemata yells out one thing when you KNOW on some level it is not that thing at all.

When I say apple do you see this? When I say apple I am thinking this.

Are we seeing the same thing when we talk of apples?

When I see a fit man with a certain bearing wearing dark, combed back hair, maybe I just see Steven Seagal. I do know know why.

When I think of pirates I see this one, don't you?

The hole in my retina has all healed up and the healing bubble has dissipated. My vision is now20/30 and getting better all the time. When I look around, I name the things I see with a certain degree of confidence.

When I see Steven Seagal in my market, it is not due to poor vision. I simply view life sometimes with my stellar imagination. That is all. I bet you are the same way. I hope you are.

Did I I tell you? Last evening I ran smack*dab into this one at the pond near my house. I was beside myself with secret pleasure at my star*sighting.

tourist tuesday and i finally remember my manners

Oh my goodness. Oh my goodness.

Please excuse my manners!

What was I thinking?

I waltz into your life and pluck you up from the comforts of your own computer.

I carry you half way around the world and plop you down in Venice without a second thought. Just like that. Most~likely you had no time to grab an apple or even a protein bar.

And then I forget to feed you! My bad.

I am so sorry and positively embarrassed. {{ Please do not tell my grand~mother. }}

I take you here and here and here and here and never give you one drop to drink.

Hang on. I can make this right...

Here. Sit right down here. This minute. Next to the Zattere vaporetta staton.

I will order us some house wine and we can people*watch. My favorite thing to do.

The wine is chilled to perfection and will transport you as no house wine ever has before.

Trust me.

See. Wasn't I right about this?

Maybe we should have a second glass as long as neither one of us is driving.

Taste this bread, will you. Yummy.

Did you know carbs never, ever count when consumed in foreign counties. It is stamped on my passport.

Plus, carbs do not exist in Italy. I have been told the olive oil dissolves them or something.

Maybe we should sit here all afternoon and pretend we do this every summer.

Maybe we should simply rearrange our lives so that we actually DO do this every summer.

How does one arrange wealth?

I keep forgetting...

Do you see that hunky guy looking at us. So hot but sweet.

Oh, my gosh.

He is coming over here...

Wait...Wait...Wait...

Is that Robert Downey, Jr.?

Why, yes, I believe it is. With his good friend Johnny Depp.

I so love and greatly appreciate when this kind of thing happens, don't you?

Oh my and now here comes this one, too...

Let's just order a pizza and hang out here on the Fondamenta Zattere with the guys.

This will just have to wait until later. Let's stay here at this sunny cafe all afternoon and...

Wait...Wait...Wait...

I could be wrong, but...isn't that Geroge Clooney?

somepinkflowers and the mad tea party

  

 

 

 

 

 

 

  

  

 

  

 

  

  

 

 

  

 

 

 

 

If you do not want to miss a thing, please drop in over here for the Mad Tea Party.

It does not matter what you wear {{ oh no! }} or who you bring with you as long as your imagination comes along for the ride. Hope to see you there but please do leave a comment here, because, well, you never know...

Last year we had such fun and this kind of Madness only happens once a year. OK, well, maybe only once every other month or maybe every week in some places but I cannot speak for everybody...

Isn't life grand!

♥♥♥for Amazing Alice Wonders click here!

♥♥♥for Mad Tea Party Style click here!

♥♥♥for a Teeny Tea Party click here!

sweets on pine street and an invitation, too

I don't know about over there at your house but over here we believe strongly that enchantment is good for the soul.

In the same way I know that biodiversity is good for the pond, I know that logic and magic hold hands and take turns pushing each other on the swing.

I just know it. For a fact. We should all dip our toes into many different oceans.

Or something like that...

About enchantment. I am not saying that unicorns frolic down by the creek but from my front porch everyday I see dogs walking around smiling to beat the band.

Clearly their eyes twinkle, they look at me and they smile. All dogs just know things.

Do not even get me started on the mystical ways of my cat...

I do not have a fairy~godmother but I do have several friends that are sharp with needle and thread and could whip me up a ball gown in the blink of an eye.

If I should need one. Which I do not.

Those that live among us have their super powers and their wondrous ways...

If you have been out and about over here or over here or over here you might have noticed the invitations to Vanessa's Mad Tea Party.

When Vanessa is not sharing her amazing adventures and painting yummy treats, she gives the best parties, I must say!

All sorts of cutie creatures zoom in from miles around.

Why, even her cupcakes will make you swoooon....

Last year at the Mad Tea Party we had the best time visiting each other. Sharing festive tea~time snacks and colorful sweets. Some folks dressed to high heaven and some did not.

Here is the best part---> You are invited. I know. Isn't it wonderful!

Vanessa is an equal~opportunity, come~one, come~all, kind of hostess...

 

Over here on Pine Street we are getting ready for the party.

Mark your calendar, please. The Mad Tea Party is next Saturday and this social event will not be complete without you {{it never is}} so do join us.

I would find it so enchanting if you did...

how to use wild things as an excuse for practically anything

If there is anything better tasting in the whole wide world than home~made sugar cookies, please let me know.

I am talking Home~Made sugar cookies. The kind with Real Butter and White Flour and Granulated Sugar. All those frowned upon ingredients.

THAT kind of sugar cookie.

I mean to say, the kind of  home~made sugar cookie where I will taste the raw dough even if the recipe calls for One Uncooked Egg.

Normally I do not throw caution to the wind when it comes to eating Uncooked Eggs but I live for the exception to the rule these days.

Times are tough all over the place and worrying about swallowing a smidgen of Uncooked Egg in home~made sugar cookie dough is not going to keep me up at night.

I don't think.

But you decide for yourself.

Anyway. This was my first Christmas ever where I did not make sugar cookies. First ever in about 30 years.

I did not even get out my secret family recipe, did not even buy the required unsalted sticks of butter, did not gather and play with my collection of cookie cutters.

Nada. Zip. Nothing sugar cookie-ish happened in my kitchen.

Carol was the first to bring up the subject.

"Well, I know you have been busy with your dad lately, somepinkflowers," my dear friend began, the understanding tone floating to the top of her voice like cream, "but my daughter will be here from Dallas next week and you know how she loves your home~made sugar cookies."

"Oh, I am not making sugar cookies this Christmas," I explained. "My Spare Time has not yet arrived and my kitchen table is over~run with wild things."

"Just step inside my kitchen and you will see," I continued, Holding My Ground.

Carol popped in later bringing a holiday tin filled with home~made rum balls.

What a friend!

We lit the candles, watched the wild things dance around the kitchen table and ate rum~ball after rum~ball after rum~ball.

After a bit we did not give a fig for sugar cookies.

A few days later my neighbor, Buddy, dropped in.

He sniffed around my kitchen, opened this cabinet and that drawer. Looking for one of these he examined the pantry. He gazed about the counter tops. He stood askance in front of the open refrigerator door.

Well, you know where this is going.

"Hey, somepinnkflowers, where are your sugar cookies," Buddy asked, lifting the milk carton, judging the weight for fullness. "Are mine in a box under your tree?"

"Let's crack that package open right now," he continued. The milk carton now resting on the counter in sweet anticipation.

In Buddy's defense, I had trained him to expect a cookie stash ever year during the holidays.

{{ It was by my own hand that Buddy learned to go ferreting for treats in this very kitchen so do not judge him too harshly. If you lived nearby, I might have trained you thus. }}

When I explained about the not~yet~arrived Spare Time and the wild things living on my kitchen table, Buddy was so embarrassed he rang up for a Delivered Pizza.

Vegetarian. With extra cheese. Ummm mm.

We lit the candles, watched the wild things dance around the kitchen table and ate slice after slice of veggie~ladened pizza.

After a bit we did not give a fig for sugar cookies.

Then Sherry came over with a box of this! Being a cookie~less hostess, I made some of this.

We lit the candles, watched the wild things dance around the kitchen table and laughed and talked and then laughed and talked some more.

And so it went, my sugar cookie~less holiday season.

Up until today.

Up until now as  I write this to you.

I wish that I could say that keeping sugar cookies out of my kitchen has made me One Size Smaller but it did not as rum balls and pizza and other offered food gifts do not come calorie~free.

I wish that I could  say that not making sugar cookies saved me a ton of $$ this year but it did not as stocking up on candles and feeding wild things comes with a bit of cost.

Still...

All in all, I feel OK about not making my sugar cookies this holiday season. I hold on to ritual with a gentle hand, an open palm and a well~earned sigh.

There is always next year, after all.

I have been counting my Lucky Stars lately and they all look like people I know and care about.

My Lucky Stars encourage me left and right to go slow through this season. Take it easy.

Those of you with tons of snow piled up around your house learn this lesson quickly, I bet. To take it easy through this season.

Over here at my house where it is 78 degrees outside, where I sit now wearing shorts and such, we just run straight out the door with bare feet sometimes and try to do Too Much.

In the mean time, I am reading this off and on, am waiting on my Spare Time (which should arrive shortly) and am learning how to keep my eyes out of the head~lights.

Time--for important things like rum balls and pizza with friends and for wild things dancing on my kitchen table--appears suddenly from thin air.

{{ I do wish you could drop in and not have sugar cookies with me. }}

I do not need to try to squeeze in One More Thing, unless you count this posting.

Thinking ahead somewhat though, I do love big, fat, heart~shaped, home~made sugar cookies for Valentine's Day. The kind with Real Butter and White Flour and Granulated Sugar.

The kind with pink frosting and sprinkles. I am just saying.

 Don't you.

just so you will know it is not snowing all over the world

Things are starting to pile up over here. My dad is back in the hospital and house~keeping is low on my To~Do List.

I dusted the dining room table last month and now it needs dusting again.

Where does this house dandruff come from? And why?

I mean it isn't like anyone eats in that room except for maybe 3 or 4 times a year On Special Occasions. Spike the Cat hangs out in there sometimes searching for a misguided treat.

Hey. Call me lazy, but why should I dust a room for a cat?

No matter how long I squint at those dust bunnies {and I can see them from here} they simply will not turn into festive, holiday snowflake shapes.

"Hey. I could use some cooperation around here, please," I plead with the motes but nothing works. My particular house~brand of dust lacks inertia.

 

I am tempted to drape little white fairy lights around the dining room and to keep the place mostly in the dark until after the new year. The days are short. So why not?

Maybe I'll keep the lights glowing until Valentine's Day. Then give everything a good dusting when I take the lights up again. This would buy me some time.

Who is to know? I will call it ambiance.

Things are starting to pile up over here while I attend to more important tasks. Little things. Piling up. Growing.

Many of the piling~up~things are invisible. Like bits of Worry, drifts of  Concern.

You might be surprised to learn how quickly Worry and Concern can pile up.  They both multiply faster than one might imagine.

Did you know, for instance, that some of the heaviest things in the whole wide world are invisible and hard to hold in your hand?

With my dad in the hospital my mom has lost her appetite for cooking and eating.

"What do you mean you've had nothing to eat today but a small bowl of cereal with 10 blueberries on it?" I have been known to ask my mother.

I try to remain Calm and Supportive and Nurturing. I do. I really, really do. Try.

I even put food into her hands.

"Oh, mom, you need more than tea and toast for lunch," I encourage. "At least spread a smidgen of  peanut butter on your toast, or a plop of jam."

I would sneak food into her mouth if only I could.

I buy her groceries, piling the cart high with foods tasty in protein, energizing in carbohydrates and comforting in fat.

"Eat, eat, eat up!" I say, gaining 2 pounds simply touching the food while putting it away in her kitchen. "Have some of this, why don't cha, Mom?"

"Nothing tastes or smells good. " My mom states the facts as she knows them to be.

"I am not hungry," she goes on. Her voice drops slightly seeing the disappointment creeping onto my face even thought I do not want it there.

I make her promise to drink this every morning before driving to the hospital to see my dad where he will eat most anything he can chew.

My mom has been thin her entire life. Now she is frail and her doctor wants her to eat more.

My mom balks at all suggestions. Nothing catches her eye, nothing calls out to her for more that two mouthfuls.

Except for this and this, most well~seasoned foods call my name. I am not just talking about sweet yummies as featured so lovingly over here. Why, even Brussels sprouts know where to find me.

I hope I always enjoy the fine art of eating food.

Sweet or savory. I don't care.

You know me.  I do not want to miss a thing.

I want to eat my way around the world and back again.

Things are starting to pile up over here. I should be washing windows right now while the sun is still shining to point out the streaky missed parts on the glass.

Sixteen of my windows can be comfortably reached on the ground floor. I could overlook the difficult~to~manage windows higher up if  I Windexed those accessible 16. I should just do it.

Window washing might give me some false~but~satisfying feeling of control.

As if window~washing could remove the bits of Worry, the drifts of Concern. As if.

Housekeeping chores are easy to delay but so satisfying to accomplish.

You take care of the little piles of things that need doing. Then you do them all over again.

And so on.

Or not.

If my dad was home from the hospital and my mom would eat, there would be no bits of Worry, no drifts of Concern piling up in my heart. My dad and I would play games and draw while my mother made clam chowder.

Which she would then eat, too. With saltine crackers.

I would let housekeeping things pile up and up and up at my house. Dust. Dirty windows. And all.

If my dad was healthy at home.

tourist tuesday and la boqueria

Several months ago I clicked on my TV and there was Rachael Ray smiling and talking to beat the band but she was not cooking a thing. She was walking around Barcelona eating.

Turns out, Rachael Ray has a TV show called Rachael's Vacation where she traipses around Europe with her husband. They sit down in restaurants and eat. A camera crew goes along and films the whole enchilada.

Or, I guess in Barcelona you might say, the crew films the whole tapas.

I am not a big fan of the Food Channel as I would rather be doing the actually cooking myself or  sitting in a real restaurant ordering someone else's cooking. When I see things cooking, I just want to eat it. I am funny that way.

I am, however,  a HUGE fan of the Travel Channel.

I get some of my best ideas watching Rick Steves and Samantha Brown.

If I could choice another sister (and it could not be you) I would pick Samantha Brown as she is charming and funny and gets to stay in expensive hotels and does not pay for it out of her own pocket, which is another way to say she is smart.

Because I had already purchased my airplane ticket for Barcelona, I soldered on through the Rachael Ray show.

The Food Channel, The Travel Channel.
Whatever. It was soon to be my Barcelona.

Rachael took her husband and entourage to the Mercat de Sant Josep for breakfast. This market, also known as La Boqueria is about 12 steps off The Rambla, the center pedestrian area in Barcelona.

They popped into the El Quim de la Boqueria and had a sort of Spanish style frittata with potato which looked yummy to me.

I said to myself, "somepinkflowers, when you are in Barcelona this spring, you should just pop on in to the El Quim de Boqueris and have one of those!"

And, you know, I did.

I found La Boqueria easy enough. It was less that a ten minute walk from my hotel. If 200 other people had not been crossing the street trying to go through the narrow entrance I might have missed it.

I mean, there was no large neon sign flashing, "Rachael Ray ate here" or anything like that.

Once I walked into the street market I was hooked.

You know how these farmer's markets can take away all sense of reason. Even if you just ate a totally humongous breakfast you want to start buying and tasting everything in sight.

Located right by the entryway was The Candy Lady. At home here in Florida I do not eat this sticky stuff because if I am blowing candy calories it had better be on dark chocolate. Good dark chocolate.

I wasn't tempted in the least to eat anything The Candy Lady was offering but I must have shot 20 photographs.

I was tempted by the color and the texture and the quantity. You would have been, too.

Green gummy frogs were everywhere. Everywhere. It was invasion of the green gummy frogs.

{If you are in need of green gummy frog photos, please let me know.}

A few years ago I learned I was addicted to collecting color. There isn't a 12 step program for this specific compulsive disorder but if you know someone who collect yarn but rarely knits, collects colored pencils but seldom uses them, then you might know someone who suffers from the same illness.

Right now I am hooked on collecting these but I am actually doing something with my collect which is so very fulfilling, I must say.

When I looked at this stand selling dried fruits my second thought was, "Well, that is one fine collection of subtle colors! If I lived near here I would want many lovely jars filled with these tasteful colors."

My first thought?
Well, what do you think?

Then I saw these nuts. Every shade of brown in the whole wide world. I wanted to go out and purchase a pair of shoes in glazed cashew brown.

Yum.

Every day as I meandered up and down Las Rambla I would pop into La Boqueria for some little something, a snack or juice, but mostly to watch the people.

If you could eat a thing, it was sold here.

Eggs and bread seemed almost too beige to photograph in the dim light.

After the green gummy frog candy and the stalls of bright fresh fruit the cheese seemed too bland for my camera.

After all, I am a color junkie.

Before we go further, you must know that I am a quasi-semi-sort-of one of these.

That means when people invite me over for a fancy dinner the first time I usually end up eating the salad and the baked potato or corn-on-the-cob while they eat the steak or the barbecue whatever.

This is OK by me and sometimes folks do not even notice except at the end of the night there is a piece of meat left-over.

{Quietly to myself , I  like to call the unexplained left-over----> the peace of meat.}

So now you know.

And now you see why the warning.

I do not eat beef or pork but I sure do like to photograph it in markets.

Again, it is the color and the texture and the quantity, I suppose.

I prefer to photograph colorful ribbons and fancy cupcakes but there is something about ropey, loopy sausage, too. Stacked or hanging. Draping. Whatever.

And legs of ham in rows like pinatas. The Mercat de Sant Josep had fishmongers, too, but it is impossible for me to photograph crabs walking around on ice when I know that soon...

If strawberries and apples ever sprout legs, I am sunk. Sunk.

When in Barcelona,  stop in the La Boqeria.

You will lunch at 2:00 and then not dine again until 10:00. Trust me.  You will need nourishment midway between the two.

The crowd is amazingly wonderful but, unless you are Rachael Ray, you might have a difficult time getting up to the bar at the El Quim de la Boqueria.

Or, when you do make your way, someone will jostle your arm as you attempt to photograph your  Spanish style frittata with potato.

It could happen to anyone.

a mad tea party, a give-a-way and me

Join us at A Fanciful Twist for the Mad Tea Party! Vanessa gives the best parties as you will soon see.

Prepare yourself! Hope you have plenty of energy! Hope you like sweets and glitter, is all I can say. Well, not together, silly, but you know what I mean...

And be sure to hop over here and here  and here  and...

{{Be sure to leave your comment on my blog if you want your name to stand any chance at all to win somepinkthing.}}

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Late Saturday evening note:  Thanks ever-so for all the visits and comments and pink*greetings and cuppycakes! Isn't this the best FUN!  Thanks to Vanessa for her coordination, encouragement and inspiration. I bet she had TONS of folks dropping by the Mad Tea Party which is simply perfect.  I have been dancing and drinking tea until I think I might drop. I wanted to stay up until Very Late but we will see...

Oh, I will draw the winning name for my somepinkthing on Sunday evening and I will announce the winner right HERE-------> It is Gemma from over here!

Hope you like your somepinkthing, Gemma! {{That good old random number generator adored YOU, missy! I guess you were at the right place at the right time!}} Check your email for further instructions and thanks ever-so everyone for dropping in. You will be seeing my face popping in over at your blog from time-to-time so................there you go!

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