Friendship, Festival, Friday and neFarious other stuFF

Yesterday I was at a loss for what to cook, but frozen baby bellas worked again. Cooked in butter until almost browned, roast chicken from freezer, the last of that chicken I bought ages ago, bechamel sauce, farfalle pasta, all cooked then mixed in a buttered souffle dish, old Bay seasoning, warmed through at 385°f.  Colby Longhorn grated over.

Served with garlic scapes, already big enough to pick.

I hadn't thought of these ingredients going together, until I ran out of ideas and just tried it. This made three meals. The mushrooms are what makes it good, though.

Nice touch of garlic flavor.

The English breakfast tea I ordered at the suggestion of a friend arrived yesterday, along with the Answer to a Single Lady's Needing a Cup of Tea when she's not Up to Making it Right Now.

The thermos with two, count them, cups, is going to be the future early morning tea in bed, all being well. 

And the tea, though not as good as my original that was replaced by an impostor, is acceptable, with none of the twigs and dust of the inferior stuff. What my mom would have dismissed as floor sweepings. So, for now, the whining is down to a dull roar.

Great report on the bolted flour. I made this batch of scone things, raisins and walnuts, and the texture's great. Not heavy but it holds together, doesn't crumble when you cut into it to insert butter. A keeper.

Tree expert  blogistas: is this a sycamore? I'm going by the bark, didn't check the leaves.

It's beautiful from all sides, anyway.

And Maggie Rudy is working on a mouse sized diorama for the Washington State History Museum. Here's Captain Vancouver.

Isn't she great? Pitch perfect always. Check it out if you live near. 

Report on the Film Fest: Clueless was up yesterday and I realized I had in fact seen it before. But the lines are so funny it's worth a second look.  I had subtitles enabled, to make sure I caught them. Good start.

The Very Hungry Caterpillar is wonderful. I read it several times so as to catch the detail.

In current reading, the essays by Tim Kreider are oddly dated, though only about 12 years old. They read like the work of a man who can't really believe women are actual people. 

The sort of man who says people meaning men, and kids, meaning boys. It's particularly poignant in the account of his trying to understand the situation of a longtime male friend who transitions to being a woman. He tries so hard, wanting to be there for the friend, but without the insight that would help.

Likewise the essay about being ghosted by another longtime friend,  where he's baffled, can't grasp why, makes repeated attempts to reconnect without success. Which makes the reader wonder how he failed to read the room so completely.

I do wonder about people who profess total bewilderment when they're ghosted. They didn't see the signs, messages, attempts to detach? They see it as a full on friendship that suddenly screeches to a halt, the end.

Or perhaps they didn't realize that what they thought was a friendship was more situational. Once they'd fulfilled their purpose in the friend's life, gone.  Or the friend's life changes to the point where an old friend doesn't fit any more, and is amazed to realize it.

It's true of activity friends, once the activity is done. Workplace friendships, too,  often don't survive the departure of one of the group. 

When I've been ghosted I've generally managed to detect, eventually, what happened. It's not kind, though. Better to detach gradually I'd say, try for the least hurt.

Arabic has a whole lot of words to describe degrees of friendship. English is a bit lacking.  I wonder if friendships have a lifetime as partnerships do.  And the lifetimes vary.

Please let's hear your take. I wonder a lot of things on this subject.