I need strong booze part II

I just looked at the title for my post from the morning, and it made me laugh out loud. The same rings true, but in a different way now! I've always been prone to a touch of headstrong independence, and those of you who are regular readers may have noticed a heightened note of this in recent posts. Indeed, Green Peccadilloes has evolved a bit. I wrote a while back that I'd lost a bit of inspiration, that I didn'tfeel like I was telling much of a story beyond what's for dinner. I've been writing a lot lately because I do feel like I have more of a story to tell - the mission is the same, to find a balance in life with a focus on good food and good drinks. But now I'm not just balancing a busy work schedule and trying to cook a nice meal, I'm balancing all that plus being a homeowner on my own. I'm certainly dealing with managing the rigors of homeownership in my own way, from buying a reel mower (which I love) so I don't have to deal with mower repairs to trimming hedges in the middle of the work day because that's when I had a second. I hope that this new narrative woven in with the rest of GP keeps folks interested and that my dear readers don't mind a little deviation now and again.

Today was no different. While standing up high on a ladder in the back yard, with Wonderpup barking nervously from behind the glass door and limb trimmers held high over my head I thought maybe I should change the title of the blog to "Not becoming a statistic..." I thought about all those silly accidents that land idiots like me in the ER on sunny holiday weekends and it seemed fitting. Then I proceeded to start cutting down a cedar with a bow saw. So when I got the call to head out to the sticks for some drinks, food and pool time, I bolted from my yard duties like a superhero running to the rescue. Seemed the safer thing to do.

Back from the hilltowns, I felt inspired again and, as I was unbearably hot, I endeavored to put in the air conditioner. Of course I grabbed the big one and began the long ascent from the basement to my second floor bedroom. I'll spare you the details, but let it suffice to say I managed to not drop it out the window, but I'm a tad more bloodied and battered than when I started.

But I did it. So there.

To treat myself, I decided to forego the bitters idea (for now) and whip myself up a quick, warm rhubarb compote to dump over ice cream. I didn't care that I'd put a bunch of work in to end up with about two tablespoons worth, I just really wanted this yummy treat.

I started to simmer the rhubarb in water and sugar, with a touch of nutmeg and cinnamon. Then I wandered upstairs to start this post. My bedroom was already getting nice and cool, so I settled in to enjoy the reprise. That is, until I got far enough along in the post to remember where it was going in the first place ... I'll just let a picture speak volumes tonight: