Sister and I went to Little Falls, Minnesota, yesterday---a town on the Mississippi River with little waterfall which we forgot to look at.
At the West Side Café.
I had the Chopped Steak Plate Special:
hamburger steak with A1 sauce (it has raisins in it!), green beans, mashed potatoes (real) with gravy, white bread and butter, $11.
Then we were busy looking around the Polish Catholic Church, started by citizens from Poland but named Our Lady of Lourdes (she's French), even though Poland has some very fine Marys, including the Black Madonna of of Częstochowa.
A big, jeweled icon of the Black Madonna hangs a prominent side altar, where we lit candles:
Our field trips are always organized around a library visit. Sister has researched all the Carnegie Libraries in driving distance--but that's just the hook to hang the trip on.
This library was kind of boring, not photo worthy. We sat inside and addressed and wrote our Xmas cards.
As we were leaving the library, a Santa was setting up to greet kids, and kids were lining up, dressed up and excited to meet Santa.
MOST EXCITING FOR A DOLL:
The big (big!) Coburn's grocery store. Some soldiers from the nearby base were shopping in uniform.
Spike was most amazed at the Little Debbie snack cakes!
I almost bought some boxes for their beauty, but I was afraid I might eat them in the middle of the night, even though they are almost inedible, being mainly wax, you know.
BUT... I am like that with sugar. If it's in the house, I ferret it out and eat it.
I am trying (again, again, again) to eat more complex carbs, proteins, and fat, and NOT to eat white flour and sugar.
A main problem for me is bothering to SPEND THE TIME––to shop, plan, and cook real food. I end up scrounging junk at work, and the like.
If someone would make me meals such as salmon, vegan collards with shitake mushrooms, and wild rice every night, I believe I would not be tempted by Little Debbies. Or, not so much.
We'd stopped at the grocery store because I needed to buy a 9 x 13 cake pan to make Mr Furniture a peach cobbler. I'd told him I'd make him one for his birthday last weekend, and then... I didn't.
I thought he wouldn't remember, or care.
But on Monday, when I came back to work, the first thing he said was,
"Where's my peach cobbler, San Francisco?"
So now I will make it. As in, now, this minute.
Bye!
