Denial in the bedroom
Mood:  hug me
Topic: Cooking
I don't know why I haven't come to terms with it yet. It was in the low 40s this morning and I still haven't put the flannel sheets on the bed. My nightwear is still a long T-shirt, flip flops and a seersucker bathrobe. Neither the flannel nightshirt, the fleece robe, nor the fuzzy slippers have yet to make an appearance.

But in the kitchen and on the patio I seem to have accepted that cold weather is here. I haven't grilled anything for a while, and I stopped feeding my garden a while back even though it's still producing splindly tomatoes, peppers and chard. I'm making soups and stews and roasting things. The other day I made a killer, hearty, rib-sticking Ukrainian borscht, similar to the one in the Russian chapter of Jeff Smith's Immigrant Ancestors cookbook). Tomorrow will be an African peanut stew with Gippert's chicken.

I may not have put the kids' bathing suits away yet, but I'm cranking out that winter fare with no trouble at all.