If I were actually rich

If I had a crapload of money, I would hire a scullery maid. I love to cook, but I hate cleaning up the kitchen. Yes, we have a dishwasher, and yes, people I know, like my beloved niece, put everything in the dishwasher, but I just can't. I want the expensive knives to last me the rest of my life, so they don't go into the dishwasher. And I worry about tiny plastic stuff. And so I wash plastic and most of the metal, especially cookie sheets and pots and pans, and sometimes the flatware and cocktail shakers and shot glasses and utensils. And so I wish I had a scullery maid who would clean the kitchen and wash the pots and pans and wipe the counters and clean the stove top. And that's what I have to say about that.

Plain Cooking

I started Weight Watchers again this week, partly for myself (reluctantly) and partly to support my partner, who is more ready than I to be committed to it. This is the sixth or seventh or eighth time I'm joined WW. The last time, two or three years ago, I lost 30 pounds, which I have gained back, of course.

We'll see. I don't plan to be a zealot. I'm thinking two days on, one day off, something like that. Today is off. I made us French toast for breakfast, but I cut proportions -- only three slices of center-cut bacon and five halves of bread each, as compared to God-knows how many. A small step, but an important one.

And now while the flounder fillets are thawing out (I hope) in a sink full of cold water in the kitchen, I'm going to go make myself cocktail. A whiskey side car tonight, and a double -- 2 ounces of Jameson 12-year-old Irish whiskey, 1 ounce of Cointreau, and a scant ounce of fresh lemon juice. Yum.

Blog 1 - Is a Title Necessary?

My first random thought concerns the nature of the introductory blog. It is probably important to begin as I mean to go on, but fugitive thoughts being what they are, I don't suppose it matters, especially since readership hereof will likely never grow past single digits -- or for that matter even a singular single digit, that is me -- it really doesn't matter.

Therefore, I would like to say that I heard Mozart's Haffner Symphony, or the last movement of it, the other day while sitting the doctor's waiting room, and I didn't recognize it. I decided it was Mozart and I knew it was a symphony, but I didn't know it as No. 35, and I was a little ashamed of myself. Nice symphony, the Haffner. I recommend it.