“Ask any woman how she makes it through the day, and she may mention her calendar, her to-do lists, her babysitter. But if you push her on how she really makes it through her day, she will mention her girlfriends.” ~ Anna Quindlen
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Nearly nine months had passed, and I’d missed them
This funny (and wise!) group of women who spend their lunch-hours in the lazy river, all while soaking up the sunshine and chatting about life. I love hanging out with them; what a treasure trove of stories, and wealth of great information.
Making a pie crust? Add vodka. Funniest name for a pet? Milkshake (the cat). The best potato salad? No to the Mayo; yes to Miracle Whip. It also has to be mustardy with, eggs, onions, and a splash of pickle juice. Have you tried Ina Garten’s? Why in the world would someone deviate?
Favorite books for summer? Offering a glimpse into what’s stacked on their night tables, along with some very
It was fun to hear about two-person book clubs, where (a few times each year) a woman and her best friend read the same book. They’ve been doing this for twenty-three years(!)
I also loved stories of reading in bed with their husbands, pets, kids, or grandkids. Such wonderful and cuddly memories.
“When we were newly-married, forty-one years ago(?!), I had a terrible case of the flu. He brought me water, freshened my throw-up bucket, and sat as still as he could on the bed. His genius way of distracting me from a bad tummy? Reading short stories
A few decades had gone by, and we’d sort of forgotten about it. But then one night, we remembered and decided to start doing it more regularly. We each pick a few books we think the other person might enjoy
We’ll read bits and pieces, and often end up getting into side conversations. It’s fun to get a peek into his brain and see what jumps out to him, plus we’re reading books we wouldn’t have otherwise.
But inevitably, I’ll fall asleep. That stinker, he’ll start inserting nonsensical plot points (“and his head popped off!”) to see if I’ll say something or if I’m actually asleep. Most of the time I’m out like a light.”
As we made our way around and around in the pool that afternoon, they also shared some of their current reads. Each time we’d finish a lap, I’d jump out of the water, grab my notebook and write them down
For the weekend, I thought it might be fun to share a few
Considering and celebrating, everything from marriage, girlfriends, our mothers, parenting, faith, loss, to all the stuff in our closets, and more. Anna Quindlen says for us what we may wish we could have said ourselves.
This is a brand new release. A story of a tragedy of an Ojibwe hunter who accidentally shot and killed the 5-year-old son of a friend, a very close friend
On a warm summer morning in North Carthage, Missouri, it is Nick and Amy Dunne’s fifth wedding anniversary. Presents are being wrapped, and reservations are being made when Nick’s clever and beautiful wife disappears. A story full of suspense, chaos, twists, and turns.
She read it to understand why the wholesome Patti Hanson would marry a “dangerous” man. More importantly, she’d been reminded not to judge a book by its cover
“It is not the critic who counts; not the man who points out how the strong man stumbles, or where the doer of deeds could have done them better. The credit belongs to the man who is actually in the arena, whose face is marred by dust and sweat and blood; who strives valiantly; who at the best knows, in the end, the triumph of high achievement, and who at worst, if he fails, at least fails while daring greatly.” —Theodore Roosevelt
The story of a marriage told first from the husband’s, the wife’s, perspectives presents two very different accounts of the same relationship.
Rachel takes the same commuter train every morning and night. Every day she rattles down the track, flashes past a stretch of cozy suburban homes, and stops at the signal that allows her to daily watch the same couple breakfasting on their deck. And then she sees something shocking. It’s only a minute until the train moves on, but it’s enough. Now everything’s changed.
The story begins with an explosion at the Metropolitan Museum that kills narrator Theo Decker’s beloved mother and results in his unlikely possession of a Dutch masterwork called The Goldfinch. Shootouts, gangsters, pillowcases, storage lockers, and the black market for art all play parts in the ensuing life of the painting in Theo’s care.
Big Magic by Elizabeth Gilbert
A must-read for anyone hoping to live a creative life, I dare you not to be inspired to be brave, to be free, and to be curious
Seth Hubbard is a wealthy man dying of lung cancer. He trusts no one. Before he hangs himself from a sycamore tree, Hubbard leaves a new, handwritten will. It is an act that drags everyone he left behind, into a riveting conflict
The sloppy joe – messy, sweet, and oh so delicious. The much-loved sandwich often found at tailgates, school cafeterias, church basement potlucks, and the homes of busy families.
They’re simple enough to make. Brown peppers, onions, and ground beef (or tenderloin for something truly special) add a few seasonings along with steak sauce and ketchup, and simmer until the flavors concentrate into a sweet, tangy mix.
A sandwich that reminds me of childhood. Growing-up .. they were in regular rotation .. I’m sure because they were quick yet good
Different pockets of the country have very different versions of what a “Sloppy Joe” is. The one I love is the one I’m featuring here—a sweet and tangy ground beef concoction that you ladle onto a hamburger bun. It’s one of my favorite recipes on the site.
It’s a mess. It must be eaten with a fork, with lots of napkins at the ready
There are competing stories of how the Sloppy Joe came to be.
According to one legend, a cook named Joe at Floyd Angell’s café in Sioux City, Iowa added tomato sauce to his “loose meat” sandwiches and the sloppy joe was born.
According to another, Sloppy Joe’s was a bar in Havana in the ’30s owned by a man named José García. The bar got its name because his place was always a mess, and the ropa vieja sandwich served there came to be known as a sloppy Joe.
Wishing for you a wonderful (and relaxing!) weekend ahead
ps: For recipes and stories from Spaghetti Saturday .. here
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~ Adapted from Aaron McCargo (Big Daddy of Food Network)
The Best Sloppy Joes
- a small glug of oil
- 1 pound beef tenderloin, diced or ground (or ground beef)
- 1 tsp freshly ground black pepper
- 1 tsp sea salt
- ¼ cup yellow onion, minced
- ¼ cup red pepper, minced
- 2 cloves garlic, minced
- 3 Tbsp steak sauce (preferred: A1 Steak Sauce)
- 3 Tbsp ketchup
- 2 Tbsp dark brown sugar
- dash hot sauce (large or small dash depending on your heat tolerance)
- 1 tsp dry mustard
- 6 buns, toasted (gluten-free if you're avoiding gluten)
- In a large skillet over medium-high heat, add oil.
- Add beef tenderloin (or ground beef if using), pepper and salt. Allow to cook for a few minutes.
- Add onions, peppers and garlic and stir.
- Mix in steak sauce, ketchup, brown sugar, hot sauce and dry mustard. Cook until browned.
- Serve on toasted buns