Bonus: Pendle Hill cornmeal pancakes.
My mother also got the idea there of eating steamed kale with a sauce that is basically hummus thinned with lemon juice. It's awesome.
In the interest of full disclosure, I will eat anything that a) is green and leafy, or b) involves chickpeas, or c) involves lemon, so "awesome" might be subjective. But I would seriously eat this . . . well, I'd eat a lot of it. Green leafies are really good for you, too. So are lemon juice and chickpeas. Really, you can't go wrong.
When my brother and I were kids and couldn't sit still--on long car rides, waiting at the doctor's office, wherever--my parents would describe us as "rootchy". The "oo" is the same as in "book". It didn't occur to me until about a year ago that I'd never seen that word anywhere else, and I've come to the conclusion that they made it up as sort of a kinetic onomatopoeia. I can't look it up, either, because I have no idea how it might be spelled, even if it did exist. Rutchie? Rootchie? Rutchy? Routchy?
Antsy. It basically means antsy, but maybe without the nervous component. Restless, I guess. You know how kids are when they're bored and have been trying to sit still for longer than is age-appropriate, and are probably hungry and need to pee, to boot.
Anyway, that's how I've been lately. For the past couple months, really.
My mother also got the idea there of eating steamed kale with a sauce that is basically hummus thinned with lemon juice. It's awesome.
In the interest of full disclosure, I will eat anything that a) is green and leafy, or b) involves chickpeas, or c) involves lemon, so "awesome" might be subjective. But I would seriously eat this . . . well, I'd eat a lot of it. Green leafies are really good for you, too. So are lemon juice and chickpeas. Really, you can't go wrong.
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When my brother and I were kids and couldn't sit still--on long car rides, waiting at the doctor's office, wherever--my parents would describe us as "rootchy". The "oo" is the same as in "book". It didn't occur to me until about a year ago that I'd never seen that word anywhere else, and I've come to the conclusion that they made it up as sort of a kinetic onomatopoeia. I can't look it up, either, because I have no idea how it might be spelled, even if it did exist. Rutchie? Rootchie? Rutchy? Routchy?
Antsy. It basically means antsy, but maybe without the nervous component. Restless, I guess. You know how kids are when they're bored and have been trying to sit still for longer than is age-appropriate, and are probably hungry and need to pee, to boot.
Anyway, that's how I've been lately. For the past couple months, really.
My father has been home from overseas, which is great because he is a human border collie--the living embodiment of "rootchy" if he doesn't have work to do--and happily takes over much of the dog care and clean-up that ordinarily is my domain. That leaves me free to get more exercise, tally model-horse show points, whatever. On the other hand, the general energy level at home goes up considerably, which can be a little tense. My parents are opposite energy levels: Dad is frenetic and Mom is slow and something of a hermit.
I've been getting a lot more exercise because I don't have to walk twice in the evening--once to take my 15-year-old dog, who is in excellent shape for her age but mostly wants to mosey and smell things; and again to actually get some exercise myself. I still don't know where, though, my evenings go. OK, I do, actually--walking and jogging take up quite a bit of time, and then I take a shower. Get some lunch ready for the next day. Go to bed.
So, I'm not getting that much else done. Not a lot of sewing. Almost no music. Not enough reading. Definitely not enough cooking. I love to cook but hardly ever do, and that just stinks.
The sewing thing is really irksome, too. For one, I need new clothes. I had to Goodwill the navy blue dress because it didn't fit all that well to begin with, and it really didn't fit that well 25 pounds later. The rust-colored one is better since I made it after I changed the yoke pattern, but it's sort of lost its 1940's curvy awesomeness since there is less of me now to fill it out. I'm bordering on desperate to get Simplicity 4714 done because, well, I really want to get another dress made, but I also really need it.
I think I may focus on some of my simpler 1970's patterns (yes, this is an insanely large collection . . . and these are only the 1970's ones I have) for awhile so I can rebuild my wardrobe a bit, and then go back to the more interesting, but more complex and somewhat less practical 1940's ones. I need skirts like nobody's business. I've got more plans for things to sew than I will probably ever accomplish.
I'm very frustrated.
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Update: Holy cow, it's a real word! Colloquial, but we're not the only ones who use it!
We're not Pennsylvania Dutch but we did live in Easton for awhile, which is not so far from Hershey. My parents must have picked it up there.
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Update #2: My father insists he grew up using this word. He's not from Pennsylvania--although he had ancestors that spent time in the Bethlehem/Allentown region, not so far from Hershey--but he is of German descent. One of his grandmothers may have been Midwestern Amish, too, so if it ultimately has German origins, I guess it wouldn't be surprising that his family used it.
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