Uncloistered

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  “She gazed ahead through a long reach of future days strung together like pearls in a rosary, every one like the others, and all smooth and flawless and innocent, and her heart went up in thankfulness. Outside was the fervid summer afternoon; the air was filled with the sounds of the busy harvest of men and birds and bees; there were halloos, metallic clatterings, sweet calls, and long hummings. Louisa sat, prayerfully numbering her days, like an uncloistered nun.” A New England Nun By Mary E. Wilkins Freeman (1852–1930)

Today I Am Eating . . .

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I sure do enjoy my eggs in the morning but am feeling "soup"-ish today.
Oh, how about Green Chili Stew with a flour tortilla . . . I need a napkin just thinking about it.

Enjoy this quote from a book I'm reading:

credit: I Am New Mexico
"[The waitress] serves a stack of unheated flour tortillas, butter, and a bowl of green, watery fire that would have put a light in the eyes of Quetzalcoatl. Texans can talk, but nowhere is there an American chili hot sauce, green or red, like the New Mexican versions, with no two recipes the same except for the pyrotechnic display they blow off under the nose. New Mexican salsas are mouth-watering, eye-watering, nose-watering; they clean the pipes, ducts, tracts, tubes; and like spider venom, they can turn innards to liquid. I'd finished the tortillas when she set down the huevos rancheros with chopped nopales (prickly pear), rice, and a gringo glass of milk to extinguish the combustibles." 

 (Heat-Moon, William Least. Blue Highways: A Journey Into America. New York: Back Bay Books, 1999, p. 154)

 I miss New Mexico . . .

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