Happy Fourth of July

I don't know about you, but I am very tired of hearing the noise of fireworks for the last four nights. For some insane reason, the towns around here decided to do their fireworks starting Sunday night. Thunder? Gunshots? Nope -- fireworks!

'Nuff said. I celebrated today by shredding bills and other stuff from the mid 2000s and then hauling up printed matter from the basement that I used in my other careers.

Fashion articles I wrote for a magazine when I was an image consultant (which you would never know to see the way I dress today), and personality assessment tests and career development manuals I used when I was a career transition counselor for a decade. Mostly trashed, but I kept my Myers-Briggs tests and other similar things.

Why? I can't part with them - and I never know when somebody might want a personality test.

Then later today, I made ice cream. I had seen a recipe for coffee halvah nut chocolate and thought it sounded super.

I chopped pistachios in my late mother-in-law's nut chopper. Low-tech but perfect for the job!

Then the rest of the process. Making the custard, chilling it, adding coffee and the nuts and finally, melted chocolate.

Later, fter a while, I decided to have some. Meh. Disappointing. I'd rather eat halvah all by itself and stick to home made lemon ice cream (my favorite) and salted caramel. It wold have been better without the coffee and the dark chocolate: 2 things I love that just didn't work. Oh, well. The process was a nice relief from up and down the stairs, carrying books and papers.

In between all of this, I managed to make another block or two today and add them to the ones I am making when I get 15 minutes or so. Here they are, being auditioned on my design wall (aka bulletin board with thread-encrusted batting).

Improv redos of triangle blocks that didn't work.

I am off tomorrow morning to collect boxes from someoe who is unpacking her move. This way, I can box up what I know I will be taking, and stack them in the garage, who knows where.

Perhaps more, tomorrow.

 all text & images ©rayna gillman 2019