For many of the best things in life, a person has to wait in line
Listened to the show Saturday and it was not bad. A fine part of a good weekend at home, not doing much of anything but board games, homework, and the kind of cleaning people do just before winter arrives. Preparatory, I’d call it. Making space in the mudroom and filling space in the pantry. There was conversation, too, mostly about the holidays and the election, and the latter brought on a low-level stress which ended Tuesday, gloriously, as I filled in those little circles to signify my choices for those I wish to lead our country along.
Seems that for many of the best things in life, a person has to wait in line. Groceries, a haircut, growing up, money. I did have to wait in line to vote, and I didn’t mind so much. Somewhere along the line I forced myself to learn and know patience, and waiting isn’t a problem. I’ll wait. Sure. Because, depending where you are, a moderate wait is good quality people-watching time, and voting locations are prime for a whole mix of the odd and the ordinary.
I’m not rude about it, I don’t think. I don’t stare and I smile a genuine smile. I just like seeing who else is around at this time on this planet. The people with whom I’m on the Big Trip. What I noticed Tuesday morning that struck me and still has me thinking is that the men, for the most part, looked calm and maybe even bored, while all but one of the women there were clutching something. Not just holding it, but holding it tight, holding it close, as if something was about to happen and they were ready for it. Purses, umbrellas, folders, colorful bags, car keys.
Perhaps it’s the whole hunter gatherer thing: the men were surveying the landscape, while the women had gathered up what they needed and were ready to go. Perhaps it’s about multi-tasking abilities, and the men had given their thoughts to the task at hand while the women were holding what was necessary for the last thing or the next thing. Maybe I had too much time in line to even get myself to wondering about clutching in the first place.
I’ve never owned a clutch purse. I don’t think I want one. I prefer the idea of it, and of clutching, and what I might choose to hold tight and close on a day when the words, “Life, Liberty and the Pursuit of Happiness” run through my head as I fill circles with black ink and walk out the door wearing a red sticker with the words, in white, “I Voted.”
Here’s one for this stretch of gray, dreary, drippy, chilly days. Breakfast, lunch or dinner; goes well with a glass of milk or wine, as you wish.
Baby Bella Brie Quiche
¾ cup chopped portabella mushrooms
¼ cup shallots, minced
1 T butter
1 deep-dish pie shell
3 oz. brie cheese, rind removed and sliced
3 eggs, lightly beaten
1 ½ cups cream
Sauté the mushrooms and shallots in the butter. Set aside. Place the cheese in the bottom of the pie shell. Mix the eggs, cream, and mushroom mixture together and pour into the shell. Place on a cookie sheet and bake at 375 for 25 to 30 minutes (or until the top is lightly browned and the pie is firm in the middle).